Commander of Poltava

He was one of the youngest commanders of the war. And totally unprepared. Not only had he pulled off the clandestine rescue of a thousand lost Europeans and Americans, but in a twist of fate, became the most public figure at the American outpost in Poltava.

As the Russians lost trust in America's objectives in Poland,  all officers above Trimble were removed from command simultaneously, to appease the Eastern Host. And at the time the Americans were additionally depressed by the loss of President Roosevelt. Amid the escalating tension, the only remaining, qualified officer to command the airbase was Captain Trimble.

While laying in his bunk after the Russians had stopped all further movement of Americans in Poland, Robert was called quickly to the command office. In moments he was told by his commander, Colonel Hampton, that Robert would take his place. Astonished, he was now faced with transitioning from his stunning role as mass rescuer, to an equally improbable role as commander of an airbase, with no preparation or experience.

This new role frightened him as much as the last. The Soviet temper and distrust for Americans was boiling over. Robert had half expected to be hauled away in chains because of his clandestine rescue work; instead he was dropped into the absurd circumstance of conveying trustworthiness. He would have to find a way to appease the Reds, and lift the spirits of his men at the same time. With no leadership experience, he held meetings with the Host, trying his best to show sincerity and honest intention.

For two months he did just that. Conditions got better. But all the while, the efforts of the NKVD were still there; shifting from tracking his every move in the wild, to Cold War persuasion techniques to give up classified information. Seductresses and alcohol were key ingredients. He was human. But he fought hard, and in the end the airbase, his men, and America's reputation improved in Russia under his command. He was the last American to leave Russia, waiting until all of his men had gone home.

The Confession

When Father was in his eighty-sixth year, he suffered a near-fatal accident. The resultant attention he received would eventually lead to a striking revelation of the secret humanitarian work he had done in WWII.

The events that led to his confession began on a hot summer day, when the 85-year-old worked alone in his communal garden. Dad recounted that after a couple of hours under the sun he began to feel dizzy. He had forgotten to bring his medicine and water, so his blood pressure dropped and he began to over-heat. When he stood up from a crouch he felt faint, and that’s all he remembered. We know though, that he must have fallen, hitting the ground hard. His head narrowly missed the blade of the shovel, as the paramedics reported later. He was obviously unconscious before hitting the ground. It was early afternoon; no one else was fool enough to join him on such a hot day, so he lay there for hours.

He made a remarkable recovery in the hospital, after treatment for heat prostration and dehydration. In fact by the evening of the second day after the accident, he was back in the garden. The close call made me realize how much I cared for him, how much I still needed to know about him, and how little time we may have left. So I began several journeys to his retirement home over the following year to reconnect with him.

My idea was to capture (record) his WWII stories, and something about his childhood as well. And the bonus would be to learn more about Mom's early days; senility had now sealed her lips. The first trip revisited all of the exciting bomber exploits of Pilot Trimble, as he had recounted in days past. Finally, I was able to digitally record them, expecting some day to chronicle his career as a brave airman. Near the end of that visit, we began talking about his painful youth; how his father had left him, his mom and family for another woman. And how Dad (Robert) was left to struggle with school and now work, to support his mom, brothers and sister. It was on questioning him about this time of abandonment, that the conversation took a bizarre and shocking turn.
 
Dad said, "My idea of family ended when my father left us. I didn’t know how to handle my anger. In some ways going off to war helped me escape my unhappiness for awhile; I was so excited. But while I was in Europe something happened to me that changed how I looked at life. I have not talked about this very much. It was so terrible that I returned from Russia very depressed, not caring about my relationship with your mother, the military or even me."

Obviously the question of his father had awakened a world of pain. He seemed to be associating their relationship with the terrible memories of war. I decided not to push the discussion and concluded the visit. As I was leaving and while embracing Dad (the warmest I remember), one of the words in his heartfelt reflection suddenly jumped to the front of my mind.

"Russia?"

"What Lee?"

"Russia. You said you returned from Russia after the war. You never said anything about it in your stories, until just now."

"We’ll talk about it next time Lee. It’s one of the things I purposely never mentioned to any of you. In fact I was ordered not to. And frankly I am not sure I want to now. It was painful then and it’s taken a lifetime for me to recover. It was a dark evil time. No one knew that we were in Russia as OSS operatives." He stuffed money in my shirt pocket. "Here, drive safely."

Trust

A collision of cultures. It is amazing that the Soviet Union and the United States were able to successfully work together on a Russian air base. From 1944 to 1945, up to 13,000 men and women from America traveled to the U. S. S. R. to live and work with the Soviets for the great Operation Frantic, during wartime. While there, the Germans bombarded the main base at Poltava, while our people had only cloth tents between them and the shrapnel.
There were huge cultural, political and of course language differences to overcome. Yet many international friendships were born. Still, as you can imagine, stress points often arose, especially over the issue of fraternization. American men and women spent time in the city of Poltava when off duty. There were plenty of opportunities for romantic attachment. This (understandably) often created resentment among Russian men. Imagine the situation in reverse; Americans would have felt the same. Conversino covered this problem amply in his book: Fighting with the Soviets. 

Politically, it can be argued that our differences were even stronger. America was in the Soviet Union as a guest. It was proper for the U. S. to respect Soviet ways of life, and certainly, Soviet policy. Did we? Well, Americans didn't get a perfect score on this. During the 15 months of the experiment, there were a couple of international incidents involving human smuggling accusations on U. S. airplanes. One case involved a Pole, the other a Russian. In both, Americans were held by the Soviets for aiding the escape. Their actions encouraged mistrust by the Soviets.

At the same time these events were unfolding, Captain Robert Trimble was conscripted into the role of rescuer. So he traveled alone and on foot into Poland to find POW. He had intelligence help to locate them, of course. Did the Soviet Union follow his every move in Poland? Yes. Their intelligence organization, the NKVD, pursued him. The Americans called them "bird dogs" because of their tracking ability. Did we give the Soviets reason to be suspicious? Yes. The Russians had hard evidence of Trimble's covert attempts to bring lost Americans in to safety. Air Force historian, Major Lepawsky, wrote: Captain Trimble’s attempt...to pass off American exfiltrated  prisoners [of war] as AAF crewmen...caused [Russian Officer] Shepankov’s new order [for strict accounting of personnel]. So the Soviets had good reason to follow him.

The Soviet Union had their hands full, having lost tens of millions in the Great Patriotic War. Their heritage is of an immensely courageous people. They were still engaged in a brutal war with the Germans, but had banded together in a massive human and industrial effort the likes the world had never seen. And although a culture of suspicion had existed decades before, it was understandable that the Soviets had forbidden further, unescorted American movement in Poland. Americans had even been accused of helping the deposed Polish government regain control.  Therefore, Captain Trimble stepped naively into the beginnings of the Cold War; he had no training or warning for what was about to happen when he was alone.

Despite the protective cloak of the NKVD, the Russians were good hosts publicly; protocol was always followed. And provisions were made for the men on base which were better than for the average citizen. When the great President Roosevelt died, the Russian officers came one by one to offer their sincere condolences to the mourning Americans.

In a DVD released to the public not long ago by the KGB, Captain Trimble was described by [Soviet] Gen. Slavin as a moderate officer who may have temporarily contributed to the ease of the already existing tense atmosphere between the Soviet COs Slavin, Kovalev, and Perminov, and the U. S. commanders. These words were written by Slavin after Trimble had completed his clandestine rescue work. Finally, another U. S. Air Force historian, Officer William Kaluta, was an eyewitness at the time. He wrote: Amicable relations continued between the new Commanding Officer [Trimble] and local Soviets up to the full evacuation of Eastern Command personnel from Poltava. So despite political differences and mistrust, both sides respected the personal courage and sentiments shown by the other.

"Forgotten Bastards"

The memoir title is a variation of  the motto used by the men to describe themselves in Operation Frantic: "Forgotten Bastards of the Ukraine". They felt there was no support from their top command in the Military Mission to Moscow. An avid WWII enthusiast notified me of the discovery of a 'short snorter' dollar bill from the same time-frame as Robert Trimble's clandestine work in Poland. The bill contained Trimble's signature, as well as those of crew members of a downed U. S.  heavy bomber in Poland, including pilot Arnold Tillman. Ostensibly, Trimble was rescuing them. Sixty years later, his photo (shown wearing a Russian hat), was discovered in Tillman's private collection.

The book title comes from an inscription at the edge of the bill, in Trimble's handwriting: Fighting Bastard of the Ukraine - see the photo. This stylized version of the famous motto was apparently Trimble's way of fighting back, not only for the freedom of the downtrodden POW, but the rights of the U. S. G.I.s stationed there.

Book Preface

I will use this blog space to occasionally paraphrase portions from the book, until it is published. The following is a summary of the book preface:

            Isabelle had feared for her life, ever since the Germans invaded her home town in France a year earlier. They tied her hands together and paraded her, along with other young women in the town, past the gawking soldiers. Her parents were taken away separately, to points unknown. She never spoke explicitly of what they did to her during the nightmarish time in captivity. But Captain Robert Trimble feared the worst had happened, and the empty look in her eyes confirmed it.

On the most important day of her life, Isabelle crouched in the freezing cold of the forest a few miles south of Lvov, Poland. The other young women with her huddled in bunches, making the most of their collective body warmth. It was six am and the light was just beginning to filter down through the pines. She knew they had another four hours or more until deliverance—if all went as planned. They were famished and ate the remainder of the cooked beets and potatoes they had for dinner the night before.

There was no turning back; they had taken a great risk in congregating such a large group in one place. To return now to the farms on which they had been hiding would certainly draw the attention of the hyper-vigilant Soviet forces. Robert told Isabelle the night before that the Russian NKVD would probably catch on to the rescue attempt, but if they were lucky the ‘bait and switch’ would save them. All they could do now is pray.

All hell was breaking loose at the Lvov train station. Indeed, the plan Robert had orchestrated with the ticket agent and the transport company was suspected. And the poor agent was interrogated to give up the date and reservation details. So two Soviet officers and a couple of dozen soldiers descended on the station, surrounded it, and confronted Robert.

A trained pilot, Robert had no knowledge whatsoever of the tactics used by an experienced intelligence organization. He was now flying by the seat of his pants, relying on feigned country-boy innocence. They grilled him harshly; the Soviet officer blasting (through an interpreter) that Robert was out of his jurisdiction and illegally attempting to smuggle unidentified persons (and therefore potential enemies of the state) out of the country.

When the suspect train entered the station, soldiers boarded to search as soon as the riders disembarked. They guarded it for some time. Eventually the station master convinced the Soviet officers to allow it to move on, as it was holding up other arrivals; it was obvious the women were not going to show up now—the plot was foiled. Robert was summarily removed from the station and escorted back to the American base, informed that superiors on both sides would be taking action against him. He smiled though, encouraged by the sight of the empty train leaving the station.

In the meantime, the released train was proceeding south of Lvov. It was about 2 pm, and they were way behind schedule. Isabelle and the others had all but given up, when they heard the faint whistle of an approaching locomotive. At this point, they had no clue whether the oncoming train was the one that would provide freedom—or possibly one full of Soviet soldiers. If caught, they faced indefinite detainment in a filthy expatriate camp for those without ‘papers’—which meant all of them.

She had to take the gamble; there was nothing left. Isabelle ran out of the woods carrying the heavy piece of plywood she had carried eight miles the evening before. She climbed onto the rail bed and stood squarely in the middle of the tracks. They had chosen a spot that would give the engineer the best opportunity to see her, given the wooded terrain and winding track. When the steam engine came into view, Isabelle hoisted the plywood sign above her head, with feet wide apart to steady herself. The makeshift sign simply said “France”, written boldly in charcoal.

The engineer hit the brakes immediately, and the wheels screeched. When it came to a stop, Isabelle was still holding up the sign, eyes closed, expecting the worst. The engineer stuck his head out of the window and simply said in Polish “Well come on, we’re late.” It was the freedom train. Isabelle smiled ear-to-ear, then threw the plywood aside and waved and screamed for the other women.

With a noise the forest had never known, four hundred French women came bursting out of hiding with an uproar, quickly filling the six empty cars that had come to rescue them. Shouting “Viva la France” and singing patriotic songs, the band of sisters and four brave Polish volunteers made their way south to the Odessa seaport and eventual freedom.

Undercover Mission

In January 1945, the United States was becoming desperate to find and rescue downed airmen and freed POW, who were wandering in the Polish region. Though no longer in enemy territory, everyone in Poland was suspect by the Soviet Union if they could not present identification--which was the case for most POW (the German's had confiscated papers). These expatriates would end up again in detention camps in Poland or Russia, waiting for the slow bureaucracy to process them, which could take months. And the conditions verified by American fact-finding groups, were no better than the POW camps. So the U. S. needed to act quickly, as those freed were suffering injury, malnutrition, sickness, and hypothermia.

Stalinist Russia was understandably preoccupied --driving the Germans out of  the Soviet Union, then Poland,  in the Great Patriotic War. They had no time or manpower to worry about human collateral. And their cultural and political beliefs did not look kindly on POW, who were seen as cowards at best. So if the U. S. were to help the POW (not just theirs but other countries as well), they would have to go it alone. Stalin made it clear to Roosevelt that the situation was not a high priority, and just as frustrating, that the U. S. would not be allowed to move freely in Soviet-occupied Poland to alleviate the problem.

So America went undercover. And one of the hand-chosen men given the assignment, was pilot Robert Trimble. His cover as an Air Corps officer was perfect, as we were still maintaining the air base at Poltava, and needed to bring home repaired bombers. This was his official assignment, as Assistant Operations Officer. He did not know his covert mission however, till he arrived in early February. He was at first angered by the 'bait-and-switch'; he was a pilot after all, not an agent. But eventually he accepted when he understood the crisis. He later realized, that the ruse protected him from acting suspicious while the Soviets considered his entry visa. Still, he knew nothing about undercover work.

Captain Trimble went alone and on foot into a virtually lawless Polish region, guided by the support of the  Office of Strategic Services (OSS), though he was not an agent of theirs. He carried thousands in U. S. dollars to secure rail passage and freedom for those he found, so that they could get to Odessa, the agreed-upon collection point for POW. The money he carried put him at great risk. One thing he never attempted was to remove a Russian citizen; this would have caused international scandal. But Americans, French, British, and others who were in bad shape, were brought out to safety. 

Overview

This blog will focus primarily on the clandestine activity of Captain Robert M. Trimble in Poland and the Ukraine, during the winter and spring of 1945. He was a decorated heavy bomber pilot stationed in Debach, England, and completed a harrowing 35 sortie tour. At the fulfillment of his tour he was sent, at first unknowingly, to our Station 559 in Poltava, Ukraine to aid in the rescue of downed American air crews and Prisoners of War in the Eastern Theater of World War Two. He had been duped initially into believing his mission was to simply return downed aircraft!
In a more general sense, this blog also honors the some 13,000 men and women who were stationed at the Poltava, Piryatin and Mirgorod Airdromes in Russia during 'Operation Frantic'. This was the great East-West experiment in the cooperation of two Allies--the U. S. A. and the Soviet Union--to perform "shuttle" bombing missions over Germany. Our troops nicknamed themselves the "Forgotten Bastards of the Ukraine" while stationed there, partly because of their feelings at times that our military leadership was not acting in their best interests. Much bias and dissent occured due to the language and cultural barriers present. But the countries perservered, and managed to complete the mission amicably under Captain Trimble's command.