Here I am in 6th grade. Notice how non-traditionally the classroom is organized. Instead of rows of desks facing the teacher, students were organized into groups of 4 facing each other. The group acted as a team and collaborated on classroom activities.
There was a classroom activity that lasted the entire school year which involved "flying" around South America. This was a team based proejct where each team of 4 was a "Flight Crew" that had to pilot an aircraft through the capitals of all the South American countries. We had to put together flight plans, compute fuel, find airports, and work together to solve our problems. This team focused project based learning was at the core of everything we did.
As a 6th grade teacher, Mr Jackson touched many lives. We were his last class. In 1981, at the age of 64, Mr Jackson retired from teaching. Here was a tribute in the Lompoc Middle School 1981 yearbook.
In the years since I've often wondered what happened to Mr. Jackson. Did he enjoy retirement? Did he keep traveling? Did he stay in Lompoc? Since we were so young when he retired, I expected I'd never know. You can imagine my surprise when I got a Facebook invitation to his 95th birthday party.
I attended the party. Mr. Jackson taught for 16 years after retiring from the Air Force. Since we were his last class, we were the youngest of the crowd. Though, many of his years of teaching were represented.
By Loren E. Jackson, Pilot, 385th Bomb Group, 551st Bomb Squadron.
Taken from the 8th AF News, and reprinted in the Badger News, 8th AFHS Wisconsin Chapter. 12 June 1944, Epilogue to a War Story
On June 12, 1944, we were shot down by anti-aircraft fire approximately 60 miles north of Paris. Because of the large concentration of German troops in the area at that time, I was captured almost as I hit the ground. In the process of being taken to a POW camp, I passed through many hands. But on this particular day I came in contact with a German general whom I have never been able to forget. This is about him.
My bombardier, Joe Haught, and I were captured within a few minutes of each other. We were taken to a headquarters area in a German staff car where we waited for the next step of our processing to begin. In the front seat were a driver and a guard with a rifle. Joe and I sat in the back seat with an armed guard between us. Suddenly, a soldier ran up to the driver and said something to him and we were on our way. One of the guards said to us in English, “General Gerhart Graf von Schwerin has asked to see the American officers who were just shot down.”
Neither of us knew General Von Schwerin by name or reputation, but we did not relish the thought of facing a high-ranking officer. We were driven to a large chateau and were admitted to a huge living room filled with fine furniture. From the opposite end of the room strode a tall, handsome man dressed in slacks, a white wool turtle-neck sweater and bedroom slippers. He looked then like Gregory Peck looks now. We were too frightened and bewildered second lieutenants as he came toward us. He extended his hand and said warmly in perfect English, “Good morning. I am General Von Schwerin. And you are Lieutenants Jackson and Haught. Please have a seat.” We shook hands and sat down uneasily, wondering what was in store for us. “Would you like some lunch? I can have it for you quickly.”
Evan though some eight hours had elapsed since we had eaten breakfast and were hungry, we replied in the negative. I had been told this sort of thing might happen and my thoughts were that he was trying to poison us. Then he asked if would care for glass of wine and we declined again. Having failed in his attempt with food, he was now using the poison wine technique. We would have none of it. “Cigarette?” he asked. Again we refused, feeling that he was trying to lure us into a trap with kindness.
“How are things in the States?” he then asked. I told him things were fine. “I have spent a lot of time in your country,” he went on. “I have visited 35 of your states and I know your country well. A few years ago I attended Stanford University in – oh what is the name of that little town?” Neither of us responded and he fumbled for the name again. We could see that his inability to recall the name was irritating him. “You know, it’s up in the San Francisco Bay area. What is the name of that town? You know where Stanford is, don’t you?” I told him I knew, but wouldn’t tell him. I was not about to lose the war by telling him that Stanford was at Palo Alto.
The general paused a moment as though shocked, looked intently at me and Joe and then began to laugh. “Oh,” he said, “name rank and serial number only, is that it? Very well, I can see that you have assumed that this is an interrogation, but it really isn’t. You are simply obeying your instructions. I can assure you that you will be interrogated later. I only wanted to chat with you a few minutes. I won’t keep you any longer, but congratulate you on being good soldiers. I want to wish you the best of luck and hope your stay in Germany will be as pleasant as possible under the circumstances.”
We shook hands again and returned to a waiting vehicle that took us to the Stalag Luft that was to be our home until the end of the war. We were always puzzled by the General’s behavior. Here in a deadly war of survival and in the heart of the enemy stronghold, we had encountered a high-ranking officer who appeared to by making overtures to us. It was incongruous with our training and expectations. We were unable to believe he was simply trying to be understanding, kind or hospitable.
Twenty years later, in July 1964, I was alerted for reassignment to Europe. Somehow, my first thought was of General von Schwerin, for whom I had a great deal of concern all these intervening years. I would try to find him. I wasn’t sure where I would start, but I was determined to make every effort to find him. I wanted him to know, for one thing, that the kindness he tried to express to a couple of scared, young Americans had, at last, been recognized and appreciated.
Through the help of a friend in the U.S. Embassy in Bonn, we found that General Graf von Schwerin was retired and living in Bonn. They checked with the general, who said he would be pleased to meet with me again and on Saturday, 14 November 1964, I rang the doorbell of the von Schwerin residence. The general met me at the door with his hand extended. As we were shaking hands, I said, “Palo Alto.” At first, my greeting puzzled him, but then recalling the incident, he laughed heartily and said, “How different our meeting is this time.”
We reminisced and both of us relived a few minutes of June 12, 1944. The more we talked the more he remembered. He appeared hurt and visibly shaken when I confessed Joe and I had refused his hospitality for fear of being poisoned. “I wish we had not had that reputation,” he said. “I only wanted to talk to you, as you now realize. We were told how the war was going, but the accounts were not always accurate. The High Command told us only what they wanted us to believe. I would listen to the BBC broadcasts and this was a dangerous practice, because it was forbidden. But I felt I got a better picture of the war by listening to both sides. For example, I saw spearheads and long thrusts made by your armies, which our accounts completely ignored or denied. My point, in asking to talk to you, was trying to determine if conditions and morale in the states was as bad as we were being told by our propagandists.”
He asked me how my crew had faired in prison. It did not take me long to tell him that our activities had been reduced to routine in the Stalag Luft camp. I described our evacuation from Northern Germany, in January 1945, ahead of the Russian advances and our liberation by Patton’s troops in April, which had been the highlight of our stay in Germany.
In response to questions, the general told of his experiences after our meeting. He was relived of his command in France, soon after our first meeting, and given command of the famous Greyhound Division in Italy. He said he as captured in March 1945 and released two and half years later at Dachau on December 24, 1947. “I got back to my home and family in Munich that Christmas Eve. Just in time to light the candles on our Christmas tree.
“I must ask you,” he continued, “Did you go through the interrogation center at Oberursel near Frankfurt?” I told him that I had, that it was called Dulag Luft and that I didn’t enjoy very much. “Well I went through it too,” he said, “only our troops were running then. And let me say that it didn’t improve a bit under American management.
He suggested a number of sights to see during my three year’s assignment. I told him I expected it to be pleasant, compared to my last visit. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It’s a shame. The whole thing was a tragedy for everyone, for two reasons. First, that the war was a senseless one from the beginning. It was hopeless from the outset. And secondly, and even more tragic, was the fact that our people were fighting, bleeding and dying because of this Nazi criminals at the top. That is the real tragedy.”
He paused for a moment and breathed deeply. “We recover from our material losses, but it takes time. My family, all the Schwerins and myself – lost 52 estates, each of which was worth a fortune. The property is all in the East zone on the Baltic coast. We feel lucky we were all in the West zone, even without those fortunes. But it has not been easy. We Germans have and expression, ‘A bad smell never completely goes away’.” During that hour and a half visit I learned much more about this gentleman, including the fact that he was the military advisor to Chancellor Konrad Adenaur in 1947.
The following Monday, General Gerhart Graf von Schwerin’s picture appeared in “Stars and Stripes” long with several other German and American dignitaries. They had placed a wreath on a memorial to the war dead, of both sides, who had fallen in the battle of the Huertgen Forest. This he did on Veteran’s Day three days before my visit.
/s/ Loren E. Jackson, Wisconsin.
