Bowenus

I dearly loved my dad, but I idolized my Uncle Bob. Yes, his Dutch name at birth was Bowenus, named for his uncle in Milwaukee who facilitated Grandpa’s passage from the old country and marriage to his love Dena, a first cousin whose romance was frowned upon back home.  The other Ike boys got Dutch names, but Gerritt, Bowenus, and Dirk quickly became Gary, Bub, and Dick as the Ikes sought to assimilate in their new country.

Gerritt (Gary), the oldest, took to women and business, succeeding at both, but dying young, barely 50.    Uncle Bob was a man of early middle age when I first met him as a tyke in the 50s.  But I was quickly smitten by this big barrel-chested man from whom greetings tinged with hints of his beloved cigars coupled with that Cadillac grille smile just melted this little boy.  I didn’t have to hear of his youthful exploits to make him any more a hero in my mind.  But my dad filled me in.  He, too, adored and admired his big brother.  Uncle Bob was a big-time jock.  He was a 3-sport star at Grand Rapids Christian: fullback, pitcher, and pole-vaulter.  He’d play semi-pro baseball for several years after high school as an ace starter.  Whether the bigs ever came calling is a lost detail.  He took up boxing and won the Michigan Gold Gloves novice division as a heavyweight in 1933.  Some jock.

The war came and extracted exploits I’d never heard about until I read them in the archives of the Grand Rapid Press recently.  Uncle Bob was not one to go on about his past accomplishments.  Basic training in Missouri led to some observations of talent the Army Air Force wanted honed in airline mechanics school at Mineola, New York.  He graduated with high honors and a merit citation to be posted to New Castle Army Air Base at Wilmington ,Delaware, where he was installed as crew chief of a B-24 Liberator.  Uncle Bob’s B-24 bomber was a beast. 

20% heavier on the ground than a B-17 Flying Fortress, with a longer range, the debate as to which was a better bomber continues (1). Workers at Willow Run – about 15 miles from me – built a staggering 8,685 B-24 bombers – 6,792 complete planes and 1,893 knock down kits – by the time the last one was finished on June 28, 1945 (VE day was May 8, VJ day August 14).  No one had ever manufactured airplanes on such a scale before.  The RAF (Brits) actually gave up on the B-17, despite its ability to withstand attacks.   The B-24 was manned by a crew of ten men — pilot, copilot, navigator, bombardier, and six gunners — the aircraft was capable of a maximum speed of 290 miles per hour, a service ceiling of 28,000 feet, and a maximum range of 2,100 miles.  See here how the responsibilities were distributed.  I suspect Uncle Bob’s “crew chief” would be “flight engineer”.

He’d end up flying out of Calcutta and logging over 300 hours over the Burma Road (“the hump”), which involved flying over the Himalayan Mountains to China to resupply the Chinese war effort of Chiang Kai-shek and the units of the United States Army Air Forces based in China.  He’d be awarded 2 air medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross.  Somehow, he routed himself home via Austria, where in Vienna he snagged championship skier Anna.  He married her there and whisked her home to Michigan.

Michigan quickly turned to Colorado Springs, as the Air Force came calling offering Uncle Bob a chance to apply another of his talents, that of an artist, where the Force would appreciate his skill at accurate representation of their sensitive objects.  He’d serve happily as a commercial artist, finding time to draw and paint on the side.  How I wish I could find some of those works!

He found a modest brick bungalow on 2105 Eagle View, its big picture window looking smack at Pike’s Peak.  He’d put his wife to work at the tony Broadmoor resort, where Aunt Anne did the heads of the rich and snooty.  They all loved her, finding her accent exotic.  Visits to Colorado Springs were a joy, if infrequent.  They had a son, Dickie, who came along a year before me.  We were good playmates of sorts, if tending our diversions to the crude side.

Uncle Bob died in July of 1987, at 72, two years older than I am right now.  He came home to Grand Rapids for his funeral.  Five years later, I was taken how all the Ike guys looked alike laid out in a casket, seeing then my grandpa in a similar position.  He’d made 104.   Kathy was stopped long before she entered the room.  There at the entry was a placard “funeral of Robert Ike”.  She’d never met Uncle Bob but was happy it wasn’t me in that casket.

I’d hoped to snag some pictures of my heroic Uncle Bob in his glory, resplendent in his uniform, etc.  Such were not arising from the Ike archives.  So, this picture in closing will have to do, Uncle Bob as I knew him as a grown up, leaning back on my dad’s Cadillac with his dad aside.  Two Hollanders I loved dearly.

Goodbye, Uncle Bob.  I’ll never forget you. Grandpa either.

Reference

1. McGowan S.  The Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress, or the Consolidated B-24 Liberator?  Warfare History Network.  https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/boeing-b-17-flying-fortress-vs-the-consolidated-b-24-liberator/