Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - May 23, 2025

The "Candy Bomber"

"So what did you do today?" Tim asked.

"We drove into Berlin to see the Gail S. Halvorsen School," husband Art answered.

Our "adopted German son" gave us the blank stare we fully expected. That’s the nature of life ... fame is typically fleeting. But when they name an elementary school after you, you probably did something worthy of attention.

Gail Seymour Halvorsen was born in 1920 on a sugar-beet farm. The family first lived in Utah and later Idaho. But he was fascinated with flying, obtaining his private pilot's license before World War II. He joined the service once fighting began. As Lieutenant Halvorsen, he piloted cargo planes in the European Theater.

When the war ended, he never expected to see Europe again.

During war, "the enemy of my enemy" might be my friend. Once Germany was defeated, however, our Soviet "friends" quickly became the Free World's enemy. Germany's capital city had been divided into sectors governed by the four Allied powers - Britain, France, the U.S., and the Soviet Union. But the Soviets controlled the surrounding land. In June 1948, three years after the war ended, they closed the land-access corridor to West Berlin, intent on starving its citizens into joining those in the east.

The West responded with "Operation Vittles" - an airlift of food and vital supplies. At its peak, a plane landed every 45 seconds at the city's Tempelhof airport. Halvorsen was one of those who flew between Frankfurt and Berlin.

One day, he noticed kids pressed against the airport fence. They were excited to see a pilot up close. When he tore the two sticks of gum in his pocket in half and gave them to the children, they divided it into yet smaller pieces to share with others. Some were left with smelling the wrappers. This man from a farm that produced sugar told them next time he'd bring sweets.

He and his crew began "bombing" the children with small packages - candy tied to parachutes made from handkerchiefs - a precaution to avoid the candy causing injuries. The number of children waiting for the "Candy Bomber" surged. Halvorsen expected to be in trouble with superiors, but they encouraged his mission. They dubbed the candy drops "Operation Little Vittles."

Other crews joined and soon U.S. candy companies such as Hershey teamed up with women’s groups who sewed and attached the parachutes.

In May 1949, almost a year after it began, the Soviet Union feared it was being made to look silly and lifted the blockade. The tally: 2.3 million tons of vital supplies and 23 tons of candy delivered!

Halvorsen went on to a highly successful career in the Air Force, completing bachelor's and master's degrees in aeronautical engineering. He worked on many projects, including designing recyclable spacecrafts. For a time, he returned to Berlin as the Tempelhof base commander. After retirement, he became an assistant dean at Brigham Young University.

But it was his role as the candy bomber, a role he occasionally repeated in other places, that left a lasting impression on so many. In later years, he would sometimes be joined by the now-grown children who had been the recipients of his candy bombs. Often, their children would accompany them in celebrating his simple humanitarian act.

During the airlift, Mercedes, one of those Berlin youngsters, wrote Halvorsen a letter, suggesting he use the chickens in her yard as an aiming point. Instead, he mailed a parcel to her. Years later, while Tempelhof commander, she invited him for supper with her family. She showed him where the chickens were kept as well as the letter he had sent her so many years before. The two became lifelong friends, exchanging phone calls and visits.

Halvorsen's career meant marriage was a bit delayed. But he and wife Alta Jolley had five children and nearly 50 years together before her death in 1999. He later married Lorraine Pace, his high school sweetheart. When "Hal" died in 2022 at age 101, he was survived by his wife, five children, 24 grandchildren, and 69 great-grandchildren.

Over the years, I've had the privilege of telling the stories of some pretty impressive people. But I can't think of one like him who seemed to have a whole life devoted to helping others while maintaining an unflinching attitude of optimism. His ear-to-ear infectious smile is seen in almost every photo of him. The following from his obituary seems to encompass who he was:

... He taught us all the importance of attitude, gratitude, and service before self. Hal always demonstrated a positive attitude, looking at the bright side of every situation. ... Through small acts of kindness we can bring miracles in the lives of others. Hal is a man of action, adventure, and faith. He could not sit still. He always looked for problems to solve and was never afraid to take the bull by the horns and get things done. Hard work and perseverance win no matter what the odds. He loved the outdoors and adventure of any kind. ... As a man of faith he knelt in prayer every night at his bedside, even at the age of 101. He never complained and always expressed gratitude for everyone and everything he came in contact with. We will miss him dearly. The world needs more heroes like Hal. ...

I've bumped into this story at various times in the past, often updated on the anniversary of the airlift. Everything I have seen about him makes me think Halvorsen was "the real deal."

Recently, husband Art and I saw a C-47 Skytrain, a plane of the type Halvorsen flew, suspended over Berlin's Technical Museum. It prompted us to visit the school named in his honor.

A busy week day with youngsters crowding the building probably would have been Halvorsen's choice, but we chose a Sunday. The quietness encouraged reflecting on how one person's kindness had uplifted so many.