Frank Doolittle, 104, awarded Congressional Gold Medal 70 years later

Frank Doolittle, 104, of Bainbridge, died Feb. 17, according to his obituary. This story was originally published in November 2017, when the World War II Civil Air Patrol member was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal for his service.

Frank Doolittle doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.

At 104, the Bainbridge man, dressed smartly in a light, pressed shirt and tan slacks, says he was "just doing what you were told" when he served in the Civil Air Patrol during World War II, learning to fly and conduct covert maneuvers, on-call 24 hours a day, seven days a week while simultaneously working full time at his family's saw mill.

"We were just doing what we thought we should do," he said, "what we were told."

When the United States entered World War II in 1941, Doolittle was nearing 30 years old. He appeared before the draft board three times, he said, and each time he was turned away because of his age. So he joined the Civil Air Patrol, became a navigation and meteorology instructor and, as he found out later, knocked off six weeks of basic training for many of his recruits who went on to join the military.

On Veterans Day, Doolittle was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal, the highest civilian honor bestowed by the United States Congress, and one that was authorized to award to Civil Air Patrol service members like Doolittle just three years ago, 70 years after he and his comrades had trained and served at the same Sidney Airport where the ceremony took place.

"We didn't think we'd done anything that amounted to much," he said, three days before receiving the award.

'I never dreamed I'd be flying one'

On sunny days working on his family's farm in Enfield as a young boy, Frank Doolittle, the oldest of four children in his family — now the only surviving sibling — gazed up at the sky each time a plane flew overhead.

He listened and waited for news with the rest of the world when Charles Lindbergh made his historic nonstop solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean in 1927, and he devoured "The Spirit of St. Louis" when it was published.

He liked to watch the barnstormer pilots perform over the Afton Fair, landing in the middle of the race track.

"I was pretty much always interested," he said of flying. "I never dreamed I'd be flying one."

Then he joined the Civil Air Patrol.

Flight training in those days was straightforward. Doolittle said he trained in a Piper Cub, and had to watch his instructor's every move carefully, because once the instructor deemed you ready, you were on your own.

"You just signed up and then learned to take off and land," he said. "That's all that we did."

To demonstrate the size of the planes he flew, Doolittle extends his fists, right above his knees, and pulls his feet closer together. "Just a seat. And then here's the controls," he says, pointing just to the right of an imaginary control stick.

Once he proved he could take off and land on his own, another instructor demonstrated combat maneuvers, even how to send the plane into a tail spin. That was when they lost a lot of recruits, who feared they wouldn't be able to do it, Doolittle said. But he wasn't intimidated.

"I don't think I've ever been scared of anything," he said with a shrug.

Serving in secret

As a member of the Civil Air Patrol, founded Dec. 1, 1941 under the Office of Civilian Defense — it's now an Auxiliary of the U.S. Air Force — Doolittle was part of a group of citizen airmen whose primary job was to protect the nation's shorelines from invading German U-boats during World War II.

Doolittle's squadron was based out of the airport in Sidney, and his job was secret.

He rarely wore his uniform, a brown wool shirt with a blue patch on the shoulder with the Civil Air Patrol insignia. He flew an 85 horsepower engine that "didn't make much noise," he said, which, at 500 feet or less over water, meant "you could sneak in and not be detected."

There were no radios, either.

"You're on your own," Doolittle said.

He couldn't even tell his wife, Wilma, what he was doing when he was gone most evenings from 7-9, or when he abruptly left to answer a call.

"All she knew was I was flying," he said. "When we left the airport, we left everything there."

Wilma came out to the airport only once to see her husband fly. He was practicing some combat maneuvers and came down for a landing against the sun. The yellow plane against the bright sun — and a bit of smoke coming off the plane — made it appear, to those on the ground, like it was ablaze.

Fire crews met Doolittle when he disembarked — there was no fire, as it turned out — and Wilma, who'd been watching from the car, never came to watch him again.

As a senior member, Doolittle, who had been tested at Tri-Cities Airport in Binghamton, was also responsible for training the younger members of their squadron — a group of about eight young men recruited from the local high school and "ready to fly," Doolittle said — in navigation and meteorology, and executing search-and-rescue missions for downed C-47 planes headed from Fort Drum in upstate New York to Mitchel Air Force Base on Long Island.

They found all but one, he said, a plane eventually discovered 15 years later.

Saw mill owner and patrol pilot

Doolittle is one of more than 200,000 volunteers who forfeited free time and recreation in service to fly a combined 750,000 hours for their country, according to the Civil Air Patrol's Congressional Gold Medal website. Civil Air Patrol was not Doolittle's profession, he worked full-time at Tri-Co Handle and Lumber Company, a company his father started with Edson Burdick.

If his squadron needed to reach him, they called the saw mill, about six miles from the airport.

"They'd call wherever you told them to. No cell phone," he said. "You had to be where they could call you."

That meant Doolittle didn't take any vacations, or really go anywhere without informing his squadron, because he was always on call.

Yet, he says, the "real work" took place far from Sidney.

Armed coastal patrol flights up to 60 miles offshore were conducted from dawn to dusk in 1942, resulting in 173 radio reports of submarine positions and executing 57 attacks on enemy submarines, according to Civil Air Patrol statistics.

On July 19, 1942, German Adm. Karl Doenitz, commander of all German U-boats, withdrew his last submarines operating off the East Coast after increasing losses and limited success against merchant traffic.

"They really saved this country from invasion," Doolittle said.

Greatest generation

When World War II ended, Doolittle took over ownership at the saw mill.

He considering flying commercially, but found out he was color blind, and though he could fly private, he hadn't flown since 1947 when his nephews, unbeknownst to Doolittle, arranged for him to fly a T-6 in 2000 at Kissimmee Air Museum, when he was 87.

"It was right there just as if it was yesterday," he said. "I went for a ride, alright."

But for the half century between flights, Doolittle was grounded. He did just about everything at the mill, hauling logs and lumber and running the operation, aided by a good crew of loyal employees and a community that knew the value of lending a hand.

On Saturday mornings, he'd get a mad rush of people picking up lumber for their weekend project, he said, a community of people who worked hard to provide for their families. Doolittle built his home, the cozy yellow house where he still lives in Bainbridge, in 1940.

He milled all the material for the house, bought rough lumber and managed to get a lot wholesale, he said. The arched door in the front was made custom for this house, as was the stone fireplace in the living room. His neighbor cut Doolittle and his bride of two years a deal on the parcel of land where it sits, as well, and they moved into their home in 1941.

Doolittle was also a driver for TexGas for 10 years before retiring in 1978. He gardened until he was 100 and has volunteered with several community organizations over the years, including the Bainbridge Historical Society. He has been a Mason for over 70 years and is involved in his church, First Presbyterian, in Bainbridge. He's also been a volunteer chauffeur, ushering people who otherwise couldn't to and from doctor's appointments.

"Always doing a lot of things for other people," said his niece, Donna Johnson Brown.

A deserving honor

At the ceremony held in Frank Doolittle's honor on Nov. 11, Col. Tom Carello, Civil Air Patrol New York Wing Commander said patrol members like Doolittle provided "vital communications and transportation, and stood watch over many vital assets throughout the war."

"[Frank] is a valued member in a long line of Civil Air Patrol members and part of a legacy that remains strong and ready to serve today and into the future," Carello said.

A Congressional Gold Medal, authorized by Congress, was awarded collectively on December 10, 2014, to the World War II members of the Civil Air Patrol during a ceremony in Emancipation Hall in the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center.

On that occasion, then-Speaker of the House of Representatives John Boehner said, “Someday, someone skimming the manifest of Gold Medals may ask, 'Just who were these men and women?' But really, who weren’t they? They were clerks, bus drivers, doctors, mechanics, salesmen, plumbers. They came from more than one thousand cities and whistle stops. They flew with the unbounded determination of America."

More than 70 years after the end of World War II, Doolittle says none of the people "who did all the work" are still around to accept the award. He's the only one left.

He can't accept it on his behalf, because he doesn't think he did "anything much" during his service, a small window of time during a 104-year life, but he'll proudly accept the Congressional Gold Medal for all of those who served with the Civil Air Patrol.

Does he still think about flying?

"I always think about it."

In Stories to Share, reporter Katie Sullivan spends time with the Southern Tier's most fascinating people. She's looking for stories that will make you laugh, cry or be inspired. Know of someone who should be featured? Email her at ksullivan@pressconnects.com, and follow her on Twitter @ByKatieSullivan.