John Elliott was born in 1919 in Greeley, Colorado, the eldest of two children. His parents had driven west in a covered wagon to homestead a 160-acre area in northeast Colorado. But there was not enough rainfall to make the land productive, and the hard times of the dust bowl days and the Great Depression were upon them. Elliott and his sister attended a one-room schoolhouse on the Elliott's property called The Elliott School for their early education. His father died when Elliott was seven years old, and his mother tried, with help, to make a living on the land, but was unsuccessful. When it came time for education above the seventh grade level, their mother moved the children to Ault, Colorado, and Elliott graduated from high school in 1937. Because the family was "dirt poor," Elliott had to get a job when he got out of high school. He worked as a farm hand, then went up into the mountains and worked as a ranch hand, and when those jobs became scarce, he worked for six months with the CCC [Annotator's Note: Civilian Conservation Corps]. The greater part of his pay was sent to his family. The war in Europe was raging, and the United States was "gearing up," according to Elliott, producing war materials for European countries that were "on our side." He found out about a job at the Consolidated Aircraft factory in San Diego, California, and went to work there, making good money. During his time in the factory, he decided he wanted to be a pilot, but because he lacked higher education, he was not initially eligible for the training. One Sunday morning, he was looking over the Imperial Valley with a buddy, when they heard an announcement over the radio that Pearl Harbor had been attacked. Elliott said he was startled at the news, but the United States' entry into the war changed things for him, and in early 1942 Elliott became immediately eligible for flight school. Because there were more candidates than space to train them, he was sent home to wait. As soon as he got to Ault, he received word that he was being drafted. Elliott reported to the draft board, with documentation of his impending appointment in the Army Air Corps, and was soon inducted as a Private Special Class.

After about a month's wait, John Elliott reported to Santa Anna, California for pre-flight training then went to Thunderbird Field in Glendale, Arizona for primary training in airplanes. Elliott said he had never been in an airplane until that time. He continued to Mirana, Arizona for basic training, under a bad instructor, and his check ride was a wash out. He was crestfallen, but before he could report to headquarters, he was called back. The instructor told him to go into Tucson over the weekend and "get drunk," then come back on Monday for another ride. Elliott said he did not get drunk, but returned on Monday and passed the tests. He proceeded to Marfa, Texas for advanced training on a twin-engine plane, and he graduated as a second lieutenant. Along with most of his class, he went to Training Command in Deming, New Mexico and for 17 months Elliott trained bombadiering students on AT-11s [Annotator's Note: Beechcraft AT-11 Kansan advanced trainer aircraft, also referred to as the Twin Beech]. He volunteered for training on the big new B-29s [Annotator's Note: Boeing B-29 Superfortress very heavy bomber] and was sent to Roswell, New Mexico where he began flying B-17s [Annotator's Note: Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress heavy bomber], because the B-29s were still in short supply. Elliott commented that the difference in the larger, four-engine airplanes was the weight and, consequently, the handling. He got used to the new equipment while clocking about 200 hours in B-17s. He was put into a pilot pool in Lincoln, Nebraska for a couple of weeks, and began training in B-29s in Clovis, New Mexico. There his crew came together, and in due course they went to Kearney, Nebraska to take over a freshly minted B-29. The crew flew it around the country for its 100-hour check, after which they took it to Florida where they received sealed orders covering their assignment. They were given a heading through the Caribbean, and instructions to open the envelope after two hours of successful flight. It was then they learned that they were bound for Chakulia, India.

The flight to Chakulia, India took John Elliott and his B-29 [Annotator's Note: Boeing B-29 Superfortress very heavy bomber] crew trough Georgetown, British Guiana; Belem, Brazil; and the Gold Coast of Africa. On the second day after they arrived in India, he heard Tokyo Rose announce, "Welcome, Lieutenant Elliott and crew, to the CBI [Annotator's Note: China-Burma-India] Theater." Elliott said the security of the sealed orders obviously hadn't been very good. At base, the older crews took over on the new plane, and Elliott flew two or three missions as a copilot in order to acclimate. Theirs was the only B-29 unit in India at the time: the 58th Wing, 20th Bomber Command [Annotator's Note: 40th Bombardment Group, 58th Bombardment Wing, 20th Air Force]. From India they could fly missions to Thailand, Burma and Singapore; but from their forward base at Chengdu, China, their range extended to the Kyushu Island of Japan, Manchuria, and Taiwan. Flying copilot, Elliott joined one mission to Japan and Hankau, China to deliver bombs and supplies. On 20 December 1944, the return flight south began completely overcast, and because they were in a radio silent zone, there was no ground communication. When they emerged from the overcast region to a beautiful moonlit sky, they realized they were flying parallel to, but about 90 miles south of their intended course, over the Ganges River where it runs into the Bay of Bengal in northern Burma. The crew heard a tat-a-tat-tat, and the pilot asked Elliott, "What have we got?" The plane's IFF [Annotator's Note: Identify Friend or Foe] system revealed no indication of the belligerent's origin, and Elliott could see that the number three engine was on fire. The pilot told him to "feather it," which meant to turn the props into the wind to prevent it from "wind milling" that causes a great drag on the plane. When that didn't remedy the situation, the pilot told Elliott to, "Get out of here." The hatch in the nose wheel well was opened, and Elliott bailed out. It had been freezing cold in China, and Elliott was dressed in sheepskin pants and shirts. Looking down, he could see he was coasting toward a delta, and feared landing in a river dressed as he was, but the wind drifted him back and he put down on land. It was late at night, and he didn't know where he was, and wasn't sure they had gotten out of occupied Burma, so he rolled up in his parachute and eventually fell asleep. On the next day he found a native who had been in the British forces and could speak a little English. The man led him to a settlement where others from the downed B-29 had gathered. They had sent radio word to their base about what happened. The crew of 11, and one other hitchhiker [Annotator's Note: USAAF First Lieutenant J.T. Dillehay, Armament Officer of the 45th Bombardment Squadron, 40th Bombardment Group, 58th Bombardment Wing, 20th Air Force], were on the plane when it took off; after the attack, the navigator dropped into the river and drowned, but the rest were picked up by a flying boat and returned to base the next day. On 23 December, the three uninjured members of the flight, Elliott included, had to report to Tingkawk, Burma, along with the pilot of the British Beaufighter [Annotator's Note: British Bristol Type 156 Beaufighter fighter aircraft] that had shot them down, to talk it over. When Elliott's contingent landed, the P-38 [Annotator's Note: Lockheed P-38 Lightening fighter aircraft] squadron stationed there gathered around them and said, "Don't worry boys, we got two or three Beaufighters in the last month." [Annotator's Note: Elliott laughs.] Elliott explained that any aircraft flying outside the acceptable parameters was assumed to be the enemy and the orders were to shoot them down. When asked how he felt about being shot down by friendly fire, Elliott replied that he couldn't say what he felt in polite company. When pressed, Elliot said his immediate response to hearing the Beaufighter's bullets hit the B-29 was, "What does that SOB think he's doing?" [Annotator's Note: Elliott chuckles.]

From then on, John Elliott flew with his own crew, and after missions to Singapore, Bangkok, Thailand; and Rangoon, Burma to bomb the railroad yards; his outfit [Annotator's Note: 40th Bombardment Group, 58th Bombardment Wing, 20th Air Force] was moved to a base on the island of Tinian in the Pacific. All but one of his remaining operations were centered on Honshu, Japan. As one of his last missions, Elliott participated in the firebombing of Tokyo, and said they were under strict orders not to bomb the Emperor's Palace. That night, Elliott's plane flew into a sea of flames. There was smoke and fire everywhere, and he likened the smell to a trash dump burning. There were five Air Corps wings in the area of Saipan, Tinian and Guam, and Elliott heard that over 700 bombers took part in the mission. Elliott thought it was horrible, and wondered what he would do if he were caught on the ground in something like that. After a mission, which could last 14 to 16 hours, the aviators would rest. The crew consisted of about five officers and six enlisted, and they were not housed together, so they didn't routinely sit around and talk about a job. There would usually be a debriefing the next day, with somebody from squadron headquarters present. Elliott doesn't remember anything noteworthy about the Tokyo mission debriefing. Firebombing always took place at night; planes were in formations of nine, but went over singly to drop their bombs. The lead plane went in by radar and "lit up" the target, and the result of its drop looked like a row of fires sprinkled along the ground [Annotator's Note: Elliott makes a sound and a gesture to indicate this effect]. Most of Tokyo was at sea level, and the planes were flying at 8,000 to 10,000 feet. The day after a mission, Elliott's crew would always go down and clean up the plane, so their ground crew could do more important things. Elliott remembers that after one mission the crew counted over 200 flak [Annotator's Note: antiaircraft artillery fire] holes. In the back of the plane there was a camera, and after dropping a load, the bombardier would press a button that took a shot of the hit; if he didn't get the picture, the crew couldn't get credit. Once, when a guest officer was aboard for a mission and the aircraft was riddled with bullets, he told Elliott to get out of the area as soon as the plane had delivered its payload. Elliott had to say, "No sir, we can't pull out until the bombardier gets his picture." Asked if the flak ever bothered him while he was flying, Elliott responded that he was trained to a point that heavy fire didn't change his behavior. He had to do his job, and maintain speed, and was so busy he didn't have time to think about it.

John Elliott's B-29 [Annotator's Note: Boeing B-29 Superfortress very heavy bomber] was a Martin-built aircraft [Annotator's Note: the Glenn L. Martin Bomber Plant, also known as Air Force Plant 1, produced B-29 Superfortress very heavy bombers at the same time as Boeing was manufacturing the planes]. Once, when his plane was down for maintenance, and he had to fly the old squadron "clunker," which took a lot more fuel. Elliott got a weather report that a typhoon was coming into their home base of Tinian, and he figured he had better stop at Iwo Jima to get additional fuel to get back to base. The weather front blew in before he could land, and he had to go in on instruments. As it turned out, the storm was actually making landfall at Iwo Jima, not Tinian. Coming in, the bombardier saw two or three planes in the water that hadn't made it to land. During the night, the tents they were sleeping in blew away, and the crew ended up sleeping in the plane. The next day, they got fuel and left. Another incident that Elliott remembered took place in February 1945. The temperature on the Tinian runway was over 100 degrees, and as Elliott passed the airstrip tower, his copilot pointed out that they were losing the number four engine. They didn't make the mission, and at the debriefing the next day, the colonel called Elliott a coward, and said he ruined the mission by staying behind. Elliott couldn't argue with a ranking officer. Fortunately, there was another officer there, one who had been a civilian airline pilot, who said he knew something had to be wrong with Elliott's plane because he had heard it backfiring. Elliott's honor was saved. Elliott continued with a tale about an occasion when he and a friend went out one day toward the end of the war to visit the other airfield on Tinian. When they got there, they noticed a couple of B-29s that were different. They did not have turrets, and the propellers were unusual. Turned out, they were the planes designed to carry the atomic bombs. When the war ended, Elliott had flown 30 missions, and was not yet eligible for discharge, but he was happy that the fighting was over.

John Elliott said he was very lucky to have had an excellent crew. On one night mission, they were going up to about 4,000 feet and still had their running lights on when the gunner yelled, "Take her down!" Enemy plane went right over the top of them. These near misses happened, Elliott said, and he also told the tale of one of his classmates who went up and disappeared along with his plane and all but one of his crew. The man's copilot was picked up later out of a one-man raft, but he would never talk about the episode. Elliott said no one has any idea of the vastness of the Pacific until it is seen from above. Finding a single person is almost impossible. Elliott said that although there were many flak [Annotator's Note: antiaircraft artillery fire] holes in his plane, no one was ever injured or lost in the Pacific. Elliott thought the Japanese were horrible people, and has never regretted dropping bombs on Japan. When he considered the destruction the Japanese inflicted, Elliott figures they asked for it. It was war. He didn't necessarily want to "kill a bunch of people," but he wanted the Japanese stopped. At the time, he had equally harsh feelings against the Germans. He said he is not one to meditate over his role in the war, and has never suffered any form of post-traumatic stress.

John Elliott left the Pacific with seven of his crew and some extra personnel, flying from Tinian to Kwajalein to Honolulu, and then into Mather Field near Sacramento, California. When he got off the plane, the first thing they asked him was whether he wanted to stay in the military. Elliott had thought about it, but at that point pilots were plentiful, and the government wasn't guaranteeing anything. He decided it would be best to get out and use the G.I. Bill to go to school. He was discharged in 1946, a month and a few days less than four years in service, and got on a crowded train to Fort Collins, Colorado, where his mother was living. He attended A&M College [Annotator's Note: Colorado State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts, or Colorado A&M, now Colorado State University] in Fort Collins and got a degree in forestry and range management. He had worked for the Soil Conservation Service between semesters, and after graduation he continued his tenure with that organization in Gunnison, Colorado, where he met his wife.

Another man John Elliott worked with in the Soil Conservation Service was going abroad with the Foreign Aid Program, and both Elliott and his wife were interested in traveling the world. But positions in the foreign service were only available to candidates with advanced degrees. So Elliott's wife worked as a teacher while he went to graduate school in California. With his master's degree accomplished, he landed a job in Saint Lucia, and worked there for three years. Then he went back to Fort Collins to join his sister and brother-in-law in their construction business, but when the economy turned sour, he applied once more for government employment with the Foreign Aid program and landed a position in the Philippines. After two tours of duty there, he went to Vietnam, and was living in Saigon when the North Vietnamese took over the country. Pan American was still making flights out of Vietnam and Elliott's wife was able to leave. He followed her after about a week. The company's plan then was to send Elliott to a French-speaking colony in Africa, so he went to a language school in Washington D.C. and became conversant in French. But the plans changed, and he was sent to Botswana in South Africa, where he worked with the British. When the terms of his employment unfavorably changed, he returned to Washington, and was sent to the Philippines again, after which he went to work with the Agency for International Development, under the U.S. State Department, in Egypt. Elliott occasionally had duty in the American Embassy on the weekends. His posting was terminated, because of his age, and he retired from Cairo. Elliott had great respect for the Filipinos and he liked the Vietnamese. He did not feel the same about the Egyptians, mostly because of their work habits that were so closely connected to their religious practices. While visiting with friends who lived in southern Alabama, the Elliotts fell in love with the area, and that's where they spent their retirement years.

John Elliott said he served in World War 2 because he didn't want to be considered a slacker, and he wanted to learn how to fly. Today, he is proud of having done his small part when he was needed, and the fact that he was one of the people who were trying to bring the war to a close. He knows he was fortunate to have come through the war unscathed. Elliott doesn't think the younger generations have much of an idea of what the war was about. He believes it is nice that there are institutions like The National WWII Museum where people can get some idea of what went on in the numerous wars in which the United States has been involved, and how the nation got to the point where it is today.