A Wartime Romance:
S/Sgt Joseph “Zip” Zsampar (11019777)
and Pauline “Bobby” Roberts
from September 1942 to 14 May 1943

A personal memoir written by Site Editor Louise Smedley-Hampson, in remembrance of all “our Yanks”, who sacrificed their lives in pursuit of freedom from tyranny and who never returned home.

It came to me as a bequest through a last will and testament: a battered, bedraggled black photo album, three inches thick, Victorian gold lettering announcing its purpose – photographs. Whisper soft velvety paper pages were laced together with strong black cord, each sheet being mounted with formal portraits taken in the elegant studios of long forgotten society photographers. Generations of my English family appear, most of whom I never knew, as they had died many long years before I was born. There were also more than half a dozen pictures of a young American flyer, which my mother treasured until her death and, who, had he not been shot out of the sky and killed during WWII, would have become a branch in our family tree.

My late mother was born Pauline Lillian Roberts on 20 September 1924 in Northampton, eldest daughter of Claire and Wilf, although they only lived together briefly as a family unit. Slender, beautiful Claire was both a ballerina and fashion model, frivolous in the extreme, who managed to accomplish three marriages as well as embracing an astonishing number of men as lovers (on occasion, simultaneously) . Wilf Roberts later married again, another dainty blonde ballet dancer called Mollie, an act which resulted in subsequent defiance of his Roman Catholic faith. Claire offloaded her blonde baby, plump and pretty Pauline, to the care of her parents, Granny and Grandad Brewer, who ran an off-licence in Northampton. Wilf paid for his daughter to be educated at Notre Dame Roman Catholic High School, Northampton, where she soon picked up the nickname “Bobby”, a diminutive of Roberts. Impressed by the kindness and wisdom of the Holy Sisters, Bobby too wanted to become a nun, but Reverend Mother suggested that she go out into the world for a few years, to return at 21 only if the vocation proved sound.

On 3 September 1939, war broke out and the world was changed forever. The actions of psychotic Nazi leader, Adolf Hitler and his army of fascist bully boys altered the course of global history, causing uncounted millions of completely unconnected lives to be caught up in a web of fate from which there was no escape. For many, death’s skeletal hand beckoned, cutting short young lives only partly lived. For those who survived, some went on to live with bitter memories and grief for a future that never arrived. Others, for whom conscription into the forces had been their finest hour, were never able again to settle down afterwards into a dull civilian existence and lived their whole lives with an abiding sense of disappointment. The violent maelstrom of World War swept across the planet, far too complicated to be comprehended as merely a list of dates, generals and battles. All humanity was dragged inexorably into its grasp and it is the witness of individual personal stories that allows people living in this era, some understanding of an extraordinary period.

The crew of B17 Flying Fortress "FDR's Idaho Potato Peeler Kids". Zip is kneeling front right.

Half a world away from England, across the Atlantic Ocean, Antal Zsampar (born 27.1.1852) and his wife Anna Kozo from Csorotnek, Vas, in Hungary had immigrated to the US in the 1900’s and settled in Fairfield, Connecticut. Their son, Jozsef (born 31.8.1886), married Karolina Tackacs (born 8.8.1890) and they had a family of 10 children, amongst who were “Aunty” Helen, “Aunty” Caroline (born on 18.2.1920), Joseph G Zsampar known as “Zip” (born on 21 February 1922) and “Uncle” Steve (born 1926). To this day, Steve says that Zip "was the best brother in the world." The family were devout practising Roman Catholics.

Following the infamous Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour which destroyed the US Fleet on 7 December 1941, there was no shortage of men enlisting for the armed forces. However, on 7 October 1940 (more than a year beforehand) in Bridgeport, Connecticut, Zip had already enlisted in the USAAF (Service No 11019777) as a private in the Air Corps. At just 18 years old, his civilian occupation was listed as “actor”. In fact, he was a talented artist and sculptor, so perhaps the enlistment papers did not have an appropriate box to tick. Zip joined as an "aureole photographer."

On 9 September 1942, Zip found himself stationed at RAF Molesworth in the undulating green Northamptonshire countryside. Once the gigantic B17 Flying Fortresses arrived on 21 October 1942, it was literally “bombs away”. Discovering that the pay was much higher, Zip joined the 303rd Bomb Group (H): their motto was "Might in Flight". Zip was assigned to the crew of #42-5243 “Idaho Potato Peeler”, led by Captain Ross C Bales who came from that state.

Initially, the incoming Americans had a shaky start. In smart new uniforms, plentifully nourished on good food, with the confidence of believing they belonged to the greatest nation on earth, they gave the unfortunate impression to the English of “turning up in the nick of time to win the war for you”. By 1942, England had already been ground into a state of exhaustion by the catastrophe at Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain, the Blitz, the blackout, food, fuel and clothing rationing. All fit young men of marriageable age were overseas fighting, so to girls like my mother, the soldiers of the US Army must have seemed like Hollywood matinee idols descending from the silver screen. No wonder they earned the reputation “Over paid, over sexed and over here!” A mixture of informal charm, direct friendliness, and unparalleled generosity with silk stockings, tinned food and a strange fizzy drink named Coca Cola, won over the population. When the bomber crews also began sustaining heavy losses, the USAAF incomers became “Our Yanks”, to be cherished, honoured and respected for ever more.

Zip in uniform 1942

A lot of the Northampton girls prized African American boyfriends. Their looks were unique in this country at that time and it was said that they were the best partners for the jive and the jitterbug, new social dances that were the latest craze.

Bobby turned 18 on 20 September 1942. She loved competitive swimming, drama and going out with her friends, dancing at local RAF bases. A gentle flirtation with a Free Frenchman called Pierre had drawn to a close. Bobby, pert and petite and Zip with his dark eyed Hungarian ‘tzigane’ features were instantly attracted to each other. She may also have attracted his attention with a favourite story, told frequently over later years, claiming kinship with George Washington, first president of the United States, who was born in Northamptonshire. (The link went through Grandad Brewer, a younger son of the family who had lived in Sulgrave Manor, near Banbury, since the times of King Henry Tudor.)

During war time, when people expected to be invaded by the Nazi horde or bombed to oblivion or shot down by the enemy, courtships progressed at a whirlwind pace. By January 1943, Bobby and Zip had become engaged to be married and photographs show them together, seeing the sights of wartime London. Zip gave her a photographic portrait of himself, on the rear of which he had poignantly printed in neat capitals: “America lend-leased this soldier to England’s fairer sex. Handle with care and return in good order.”

One night, they went out to a dinner and dance at the Trocadero, a glamorous and glitzy venue in central London. A falling bomb was heard outside, so everyone dived for cover under the tables. The bomb exploded several streets away, but the blast blew out the windows of the Trocadero. Apart from cuts, dust and debris, the guests were largely uninjured.

In those same winter months Zip was involved in flying dangerous bombing missions as Ball Turret Gunner on Captain Ross C Bales’ crew. (I am indebted to Gary Moncur, 303rd BG historian for details of the missions – information which was top secret and unobtainable during the war.) On 23 January 1943, the object of bombing raid Mission 11 was to destroy the port area and U-boat pens at Lorient and Brest in occupied France. The Idaho Potato Peeler was badly damaged and crash landed outside the small village of Chipping Warden near Banbury, with a miraculously uninjured crew. A new B17 Flying Fortress was commissioned and the nose art was changed to “FDR’s Idaho Potato Peeler Kids.”

Their good luck was not to last. On the night of 14 May 1943, Zip had a date with Bobby in Northampton. At the last moment, he sent a friend into town to tell her that he had agreed to substitute for a sick crew member and would meet her instead the next evening. Mission 35 was being sent to bomb Germania Werft A.G., a ship yard and U-boat pen at Kiel in Germany. Zip allegedly flew Tail End Charlie that night, instead of Ball Turret Gunner, his usual position. The story was that they came under attack from Luftwaffe fighters who blasted the rear end of the plane, which was last seen out of control and dizzily spinning into a nose dive, crashing at sea. Six parachutes were seen by witnesses to open. S/Sgt Joseph G Zsampar rests in an unknown grave, but is listed on the Wall of the Missing, at Madingly American National Cemetery, Cambridge. Of the other "Potato Peeler Kids", Daniel McColl, and Walter Dooley are memorialized at Cambridge. Capt Ross C Bales and the rest of the crew are memorialized in the Netherlands. Only one body was recovered: S/Sgt O'Reilly was washed up on the western beach of Sylt Island and was buried in cemetery of Westerland/Sylt on 10 August 1943. His remains were returned to Arkansas for final interment after the war.

The tragedy of this great loss can only be imagined. In accordance with strict military rules, the effects of the deceased flyers were collected up and dispatched to next of kin within hours. They were not spoken of or referred to directly again. Two photos exist of Mum, puffy faced from crying, with Zip’s air force wings pinned to her pink polka dot dress. She was obviously so distressed that, in spite of being a cradle Catholic, she committed the unpardonable sin of visiting a spiritualist church. Unsurprisingly, the medium was unable to make contact with Zip “on the other side,” although she dispensed a bland directive along the lines of “When one door closes in your life, a window opens”! The consequence of this bizarre interview was that, in later years, after drinking one too many glasses of sherry, Mum would declare that Zip had not died, but swum ashore and was living in France with amnesia.

In the 1940’s bereavement counselling was of the restrained, repressive English variety: “Steady on, old girl. Don’t take on so. Remember your stiff upper lip eh?” This would probably have done a deal more harm than good, and indeed, Mum spent the rest of her life, bitter and angry, but still speaking of Zip in tones of adulation that were never used when talking about anyone else.

Bobby later married someone else, a gentle, humorous, artistic soul who deserved more out of life than being someone’s second choice.

Bobby in 1942 aged 18

Bobby kept in touch with Zip’s sister, Caroline, until she died in Florida in 1992; Caroline wrote TV commercials and seemed wealthy, sending frequent gorgeous postcards from all kinds of exotic places to which she travelled. She visited us a number of times in England, during the 1960’s, when I was still a small girl. Baby brother Steve was in the Merchant Marines in 1945 and his ship docked in Southampston, from where he made a visit to Northampton. When he was with the US Navy in 1952, he docked in Weymouth and visited Bobby with her young husband Hank. Christmas cards and letters arrived also from Steve's family, (Jennie, Michael and Lisa) who still live in St Petersburg, Florida.

A poem on the TAPS (obituaries) page of the 303rd BG web site finishes with these words:

As long as we live
They too will live
For they are now a part of us
As we remember them.

Researching these details and writing this story has been a cathartic experience for me. Happy memories of my mother are limited, but it feels as though I have connected with her younger unknown self. I can also easily empathise with what it is to be young and in love, and having to sustain the cruel loss of bereavement. There are no children to whom I can leave this story or the photographs, but I felt it should be recorded before it is lost forever. Future generations should always remember that the golden youths of yesteryear sacrificed their tomorrows so that we should be blessed with a today.

Louise Smedley-Hampson
Newton Burgoland
Leicestershire
England

For Armistice Day - 11 November 2009