The following is a blog post by Michael Manning. After reading about my Uncle Bart’s experience as a pilot in WW 2, he sent me this amazing story I wanted to share with you.
Thanks for the memoir of the B17. I really enjoyed reading it and it brought back vivid memories of my last lifetime.
In 1941 at the age of 20, I left Cambridge University where I had studied mathematics.
My name was William and I joined the Royal Air Force and entered the flight training program.
The next year, I received a commission with the rank of Captain and I began to fly one-man fighter planes over Germany and occupied France.
At the same time, my younger brother, George (nicknamed “Stretch” at 6 foot 5 inches), a factory worker in London, left his employment and, like me, joined the Royal Air Force. He trained to become a Gunnery Sargent, flying in B17 bombers like the one you described.
George and I would often go on bombing runs over occupied France and Germany.
My main job was to provide cover for the B17s, although I ended up getting into dog fights on a regular basis.
George/Stretch and I were very close, but he was jealous of my education and my rank of Captain. This has carried over to this lifetime where George, now my younger brother, Garry (still very tall), has been jealous of my university degree because he dropped out of high school. Thanks to the Mahanta, (my spiritual guide) that old wound was finally healed (I became very ill and unable to work for long periods of time whereas Garry has never missed a day of work in his life and eventually got his GED diploma.)
Back in Great Britain, I flew 17 missions protecting B17s and getting into dog fights. George was often in the B17 crews that I was assigned to protect.
On my 17th run, late in 1943 during a massive battle over Germany, I was assigned to protect the B17 with George in its crew.
I was hit hard on my left wing and it burst into flames. The left side of my body was badly burned and the left wing was eventually torn apart.
I was spinning out of control toward the ground. My last words were, “I love you little brother.”
Then, my plane hit the ground and burst into flames. I was instantly out of my body, enveloped in pure white light, and surrounded by the sound of HU.
Thanks for the memories, Heidi!
Michael Manning, author of Bringing Spirituality Down to Earth
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