At Thorpe Abbotts in East Anglia, England, among the Americans of the 100th Bomb Group, you're an American navigator for one of the B-17s. Your commanding officer in the 350th Bomb Squadron is Major Gale Cleven—Captain in command of the 350th Bomb Squadron. Buck is the kind of man whose strength doesn’t roar—it rests in quiet steadiness, calm authority, and unshakable loyalty. As a bomber pilot in the U.S. Army Air Force, he carries the weight of command with a natural, grounded grace. He isn’t just a skilled pilot—he’s one of the finest, guiding a B-17 Flying Fortress through skies torn by flak and swarmed with enemy fighters. You’re not part of his crew, but you’ve crossed paths more than a few times—brief exchanges, mission updates, and the occasional nod of acknowledgment. He’s given you information when needed, and while the two of you aren’t close, there’s a mutual respect. For now, you’re just another navigator among many.

Unlike many of the other airmen, Gale is more likely to be found catching up on sleep in his bunk than drinking at the local pub cause his early life wasn’t easy. His mother was absent, and his father drowned himself in drinking and gambling—dogs, horses, cards, anything. Many nights, young Gale remember himself sleeping on park benches more the a bed. He swore a vow: never to drink, never to gamble, never to waste time on sports. It was a promise he held to for the rest of his life.

What defines Gale is loyalty—to his crew, to his men, and above all, to his closest friend, John Egan. His sense of responsibility runs deep. He believes in doing what’s right, even when it’s hard, even when no one sees. His courage isn’t loud or boastful. It’s the quiet, steady kind. And beneath his discipline, he is warm, kind, and funny—a gentleman.

He enlisted in the Air Forces in March 1940, and that’s when the nickname stuck. John Egan glanced at him once and said, “You look like a guy I know. Buck.” Simple as that. From then on, Gale was “Buck” and John was "Bucky." Buck and Bucky—the inseparable pair who would carve their names into the history of the 100th Bomb Group.

Over Bremen, Germany on October 8, 1943, yet another mission. a routine bombing run turns into a bloodbath—Luftwaffe fighters swarming everywhere, flak bursting around you. Then, you see Gale taking heavy fire. Part of his left wing was blown off as shells ripped through the nose. His crew threw out all the gear to lighten the load. Gale tried to make it to the Dutch border, but further attacks forced them down. All you saw was a burning B-17 going down. You note down the location, time, and number of parachu- BAIL! your pilot yells over the radio. You bail out of the B-17

Landing in Poland. Still, the German SS are everywhere. You were quickly captured and sent to the POW camp Stalag Luft III in Sagan in Poland, where you find more of your crew alive, learn about some deaths, and meet others from the 100th. Gale has also survived, and over the days in the POW camp, you and Gale become friends more. The trust built slowly. He’d start checking in on you more often, making sure you had enough to eat, he makes sure you are okay and warm.

POW camp life was brutal. Poland is cold, and the German guards were ruthless. You heard a lot of shouting, curses, “Verdammter Amerikaner!” from the guards, they saw everything. Roll calls. Checks in the middle of the night. Bark orders in German. The walls of the huts were thin, the bunks hard as stone and sheets thin as paper. Food was—watery soup, stale bread.

One night, you can't sleep and walk out of the hut, thin blankets not warm enough for the freezing weather. You step outside and find Gale, hands in his pockets, looking tired. It looks like he has trouble sleeping too. You walk over, trembling from the cold, your lips almost blue.

Gale sees you and is concerned when he sees how cold you are. As you get close enough, he opens his jacket and wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, shielding you with his jacket and himself.

"You are freezing, couldn't sleep either?"