Jan Cress Dondi is the author of the new book The Navigator's Letter: The True Story of Two WWII Airmen, a Doomed Mission, and the Woman Who Bound Them Together. She lives in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
Q: What inspired you to write The Navigator’s Letter?
A: I discovered a trunk of letters in my parents’ basement. While I had always known “some letters” existed, I had no idea there were hundreds from the World War II years.
Reading them opened a deeply personal window into my father’s and my uncle’s lives. It set me on an investigative journey to understand the larger history surrounding them—prompting memories of a lifetime that laid the groundwork for writing the book.
Q: How much did you know about your father’s and uncle’s wartime service as you were growing up?
A: Probably more than I realized at the time. As a child, I absorbed stories and moments of my father’s and uncle’s wartime service without fully understanding the significance. It felt like fragments—snapshots woven into everyday life.
Only later did I recognize how much those experiences had shaped my perspective and prepared me to write this book.
I spent summers in my grandmother’s music room beneath my uncle’s military portrait, which sparked constant conversation. My father shared stories that mirrored their World War II experiences—bedtime tales of enemy interrogations delivered in a curt German accent, descriptions of dive-bombing Stukas, and daring prison escapes.
On long walks in the park, he pointed out star formations—after all, they were both navigators—and I’m ever amazed that the stars alone guided their course. There was no GPS then.
And even during the Vietnam era, those conversations continued. Wearing a copper bracelet to honor an American POW prompted deeper discussions. No questions were avoided. Time was always made. In hindsight, it feels as though my entire life had been preparing me to tell this story.
Q: How did you research the book, and what did you learn that especially surprised you?
A: A lifetime of stories with the main characters unknowingly kick-started this project, but clues hidden in letters sent me on an emotional journey to uncover more.
I focused on the European theatre of World War II, where the two men served, traveling across the globe to seek historical records, conduct interviews, and experience firsthand the places my characters once knew.
In Romania, I worked with an aviation archeologist and historian to piece together the Ploesti puzzle and delivered a presentation at the U.S. embassy in Bucharest.
In Freiburg, Germany, I combed through the federal records at the Bundesarchiv, and in England, multiple visits allowed me to gather detailed information about airfields, barracks and daily life on an airbase.
Back in the U.S., I spent countless hours interviewing the main characters, gentlemen who were on the Ploesti missions, other WWII veterans and acquaintances of my central characters.
Hundreds of thousands of pages from the national archives, military service and operational records including documentation from the individual Bomb Groups were reviewed. And to connect fully with the experience, I took an unforgettable flight in one of the last airworthy B-24 Liberators.
This journey has been more than a decade in the making—years of research, writing and reflection. Along the way, I encountered incredible discoveries and frustrating dead ends combined with moments of tears and smiles. It has taken time to gather the material necessary to tell John B. and Bob’s story with the authenticity and care it deserves.
Surprises? Absolutely—so many. At the American Air Museum/Imperial War Museum in Duxford, England, a life-size photograph of my uncle and his crew was displayed next to a full-scale B-24 Liberator. The same crew image is also displayed at the U.S. Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio.
While searching through miles of military footage, I unexpectedly discovered my father—alive in that moment—in a segment of Operation Reunion.
Other discoveries emerged from persistent research: 1940 transcripts of Radio Debates my uncle delivered on multi-state broadcasts from WLS in Chicago; a video clip of my father’s friend’s 1941 yellow convertible—the very car my father wrote about while cruising around Texas universities during navigation training; and an interview with a 1950s television personality who had preserved scrapbooks about my uncle for over 70 years.
Finally,
standing at Hardwick Air Force Base in England—the very airfield from which my
uncle had once flown eight decades before—perhaps it was the culmination of my
research or the connection with my father, but standing on that airstrip, a
surge of emotion overwhelmed me… still does today.
Q: What impact did it have on you to write the book, and what do you hope readers take away from it?
A: Writing this book made me realize how little I truly knew about WWII, especially the dangers of an air war. In the early 1940s, aviation was still a new and thrilling concept. The Air Force lured young men with the promise of flight—the “wild blue yonder.”
Exciting, right? But when you learn what those 20-somethings—some barely out of their teens—actually faced, it’s astonishing they held it together.
Flying in combat was no easy task during World War II. At altitude, temperatures in the open fuselage could drop to minus 60—frostbite set in in seconds.
Over the target, there was no avoiding the concussions from flak timed to the aircraft’s altitude—as a direct hit could take a bomber down. Enemy fighters aimed .50 caliber machine guns point-blank at our bombers—they were shooting to kill—and bullets could pierce through oil or hydraulic lines, forcing crews to fight fires onboard.
My father described it as “fearsome,” but I didn’t truly grasp how harrowing it was until I dug into the research. Survival depended on skill and teamwork but ultimately, it boiled down to sheer luck. One veteran told me, “In this racket, you’re here one day and gone the next.”
I hope readers come away with a real sense of the risks those airmen took every time they climbed into their aircraft. The skies were deadly, yet they flew with remarkable bravery, selflessness, and a sense of duty that is difficult to comprehend today—qualities that deserve to be remembered and honored.
Their stories reveal how ordinary young men accomplished extraordinary feats, and how their sacrifices continue to shape the freedoms we enjoy today.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I’m exploring a few new directions that have emerged from The Navigator’s Letter. I can’t share the details just yet—stay tuned!
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: I have four grandchildren under the age of 6, which has deepened my purpose. There’s a saying that goes, In order to see who we are, it’s important to know from where we came. It’s a powerful idea.
Knowing our ancestors gives us strength and perspective, and family history shapes who we are. Passing those stories and memories on to younger generations feels more important now than ever.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb
