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
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