I’ve Been Lucky All My Life

“I’ve been lucky all my life,” Balogh says. “I’ve never really asked why. I get on with life.”

First in the Family

Born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1921. His grandparents raised Balogh on a farm in Romulus. His early memories are filled with early mornings caring for the livestock, house chores, and school struggles.

“My grandparents were Hungarian immigrants,” Balogh says. “They rarely spoke English in the house. My English wasn’t excellent when I got to school because I grew up speaking Hungarian.”

Despite his early struggles and the hard work on the farm before and after school, Balogh thrived in his studies and graduated from high school.

“I was the first in my family to graduate from high school,” Balogh says. “I remember my grandparents were very proud.”

In 1939, the automotive industry was the top employer in Michigan, and young Balogh found a job as a machine operator at a Ford manufacturing plant. The work was routine, but it paid well, and he felt he had found his place until one day in the spring of 1940.

“I was working my press, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a well-dressed man watching me,” Balogh said. “It made me nervous because I knew it was important, and I didn’t want to lose my job.”

Eventually, the well-dressed stranger stopped Balogh to ask questions. Then, Balogh realized he was talking to Henry Ford himself.

“He asked me if I’d been to college,” Balogh recalls. “I told him no, that I didn’t have money to go to college and had to help my grandparents on the farm. After a bit, he left.”

The conversation left Balogh a bit shaken. He was even more concerned when called into the manager’s office after his shift. His boss was succinct. He was assigned to the River Rogue plant, where he would work a six-hour shift and take college courses in Ann Arbor for the rest of the day.

“I was worried; I need the money eight hours could bring,” Balogh said. “Then my boss said they would pay me for a full shift when I was taking classes. I jumped at the chance.”

By 1940, the War in Europe had raged for a year. The United States was still officially neutral then, but the automotive industry was busy building war materials for the Allies, especially aircraft, which Balogh took an interest in.

“I studied aircraft engineering and aerodynamics, which was still a new field at the time,” Balogh said. “I would never have had that chance if it weren’t for Mr. Ford. I still get emotional when I think about it.”

The “Lucky” Break

After almost two years of study, in 1942, Balogh was notified to report to the nearest Military Entrance Processing Station, where he was cleared for Military duty.

“They told me that I was going to be infantry,” Balogh said. “I thought, ‘Not in the mudhole for me.’ I went to the nearest Army Air Corps office, where I passed the test to become a pilot.”

Balogh had his foot in the door but wasn’t in the cockpit yet.

“They were bringing in many flight cadets at the time, and they had no opening for me at that time,” Balogh said. “So, they sent me to Nebraska to finish my required two years of college.”

From Nebraska, Balogh went to Utah and Texas to learn how to fly. Thirteen months later, he has his wings.

“I figured I would ship out right after graduation,” Balogh remembers. “Instead, I was sent to Long Beach, California, where I learned to fly larger aircraft like the B-17. I flew all over the country delivering different aircraft while I waited for my overseas orders.”

Finally, in early 1944, Balogh got his overseas orders to Casablanca, Morocco.

“Casablanca was a hub for Army Air Corps pilots. We waited and trained there while we waited for our numbers. That number determined whether we went to Europe, Asia, or elsewhere.”

The Hump

Balogh eventually got his number. He would pilot C-46 Commandos, a cargo and transportation aircraft, out of Sookerating Airfield in India, supplying allied forces in the China-Burma-India (CBI) Theater. CBI was a perilous assignment for pilots, as they would be facing crack pilots of the Imperial Japanese Air Force and flying over “The Hump,” the eastern end of the Himalayas known for its fickle weather and harsh flying conditions.

“I don’t think I’ve seen worse weather before or since,” Balogh remembers. “If I recall, about 80 percent of our losses were due to weather. We flew high with oxygen masks, and there was no radar to speak of back then; a lot could go wrong in those conditions.”

Balogh’s main task was flying supplies to Yangkai Airfield in China, critical for keeping Nationalist Chinese and other allied troops in the fight, including the famed Merrill’s Marauders, one of the U.S Army’s earliest Special Forces units. It was during one of those supply missions when Balogh’s aircraft was shot down by a Mitsubishi Zero, a Japanese fighter aircraft, over Northern Burma.

“Fortunately, the Burmese had cleared much land for farming so that we parachuted down safely,” Balogh remembers. “But the Zero that took the plane down was still coming at us.”

Balogh made a beeline for the nearest jungle cover and aimed at the oncoming Zero with his service pistol.

“That’s the only protection we had, the M1911,” Balogh said. “I fired a full magazine at that Zero. Of course, I didn’t hit him.”

Eventually, Balogh and his crew spent a restless night in the jungle before they were spotted by a USAAF rescue plane.

“The plane was a Piper Cub, a small observation aircraft,” Balogh said. “It couldn’t carry all of us out in one go, so I told the pilot to start with the lowest-ranking crewmen. It took nearly half a day for them to get me out of there finally.”

By the War’s end, Balogh had flown 106 missions over the Hump, not by choice, of course.

“We were supposed to do around 65 missions,” Balogh said. “But we were short on pilots in the CBI, and General Tunner said that we would stay on until the end of the War.”

It was on a supply mission to China when Balogh and his crew got the words they had been waiting almost two years to hear: Japan had surrendered, and it was time to head home. When it came time to take the first DC-4 back Stateside, Balogh was asked to remain behind for a few more days; as luck would have it, that order saved his life.

“The pilot of the DC-4 was a civilian pilot who wasn’t familiar with the flight conditions in CBI,” Balogh said. “He was warned about the weather conditions, but he didn’t listen, and the plane carrying most of the guys I served with went down in Pakistan. That left the three of us who stayed behind.”

Home

Balogh returned to the U.S. with the War officially over, but his “stick time” wasn’t over yet.

“They wanted me to fly C-47s, a larger version of the C-46,” Balogh said. “So, for about a year, I flew wounded servicemen nationwide to different hospitals.”

By late 1946, Balogh took a break from flying full-time and left active duty, opting to join the reserve component of the newly formed U.S. Air Force, which he served in for another 20 years.

“I must admit, I was so busy working and raising a family that I didn't do much in the reserve,” Balogh chuckled.

After leaving active duty, Balogh never returned to Michigan, opting to stay in Texas. His wife’s home state. Balogh and his wife would go on to have three children.

“One of my family members owned a glass factory in Michigan, and he offered me a job,” Balogh said. “But Texas was home for me, so I stayed where I was.”

Balogh got a job with the Burroughs Corporation, which later formed the nucleus of Unisys. Eventually, he moved to Florida, where he and his wife lived for 40 years. When his wife passed away from dementia and heart-related problems, he moved to North Carolina to be close to his oldest daughter.

“I keep myself busy. I plant flowers and pick up around the yard, but I do have to sit a lot now,” Balogh laughs.

Less than one percent of Americans live past the age of 100, which makes him a remarkable man in addition to his WW2 service. Besides luck, how did he come so far?

“I don’t know what to attribute my longevity to,” Balogh chuckled. “Eat everything on your plate, stay active, and step up when asked.”