My father was born October 8, 1916 in Velva, McHenry County, North Dakota the second son of Hugh Otis and Wilda May Guernsey. He grew up in a large family with five sisters and three brothers. His siblings were Bessie, Mary Ruby, Lloyd Otis, Ethel Grace, Esther Emily, Ruth Emeline, Dale Orin, and Lisle Reed. He was Vice President of his Velva High School Senior Class in 1934.

During the spring of 1936 he met his future wife Olga Louise Hammer, at a Friday night dance held in Vela's Odd Fellows Hall, they married June 13, 1937. Warren took over managing his father's Super Service Gas Station on Main Street. On his 23rd birthday, he with two of his high school buddies pooled their resources to purchase a Piper Cub. He soloed after five lessons and four hours of flying time, experienced his first night landing in an open field. Cars lined up with their headlights on to illuminate the runway. In 1940 Warren and Olga became the parents to a little girl; they named Dale after Warren's brother Dale, who became a Pearl Harbor survivor. After completing an Aircraft Mechanics course with an emphasis in welding, he was offered a job at Glenn L. Martin Aircraft Company in Baltimore, Maryland, and was looking forward to earning fifty cents an hour. On a Sunday morning in October they loaded their belongings and six-month old "little" Dale into their 1932 Oldsmobile, six days later arrived on November 2, 1940 in Baltimore.

Not long after Pearl Harbor, on December 7, 1941 Warren joined the 5th Regiment Armory Civil Air Patrol. By October 1942, he felt duty bound to enlist in the United States Army Air Reserve Corps; and reported to Miami Beach, Florida. Six months later he was transferred to Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio, for five months of academic work and primary flight training. Upon graduating he was sent to Maxwell Field Pre-Flight Pilot School in Montgomery, Alabama, where he was promoted to Sergeant. Carlstrom Field in Arcadia, Florida was his next destination to join the Army Air Force 53rd Training Detachment Southeast Training Center. He graduated a member of Maxwell Field Army Air Force Pre-Flight "44-C" Squadron 3. His next transfer was to Gunter Field in Montgomery, Alabama. During his stay there for pilot training he received the rank of 1st Sergeant. His next stop was Turner Field in Albany, Georgia where he was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant Aviation Cadet Flight Leader. After being transfer to Hendricks Field in Sebring, Florida on April 1944, my mother and I were finally able to join him. Upon graduating from B-17 flight training in Sebring he was sent to Plant Park in Tampa, Florida to wait orders for his next assignment. Finally in July he got word to report to Avon Park Base in Florida for combat training and from there he went on to Savannah, George awaiting his overseas assignment, and then to Bangor, Maine.

On October 24, 1944 he flew to an airbase in North Africa. Warren spent a few days there before flying on October 29th to his final destination at Lucera Airbase about seven miles northwest of Foggia, Italy. Finally on November 11th he flew on his first mission and got his first taste of flak. He co-piloted a bombing mission to Novi Pazar, Yugoslavia where they experienced moderate to heavy flak in the third-box of three elements. Because of heavy under-case at the target, they returned to base without dropping any bombs. The next day their target was Brux Oil Refinery in Czechoslovakia. The aircraft he was co-piloting this time was in the second box. They dropped their bombs on a railroad bridge near the refinery and didn't experience any flak.

On my father's third and final mission, the 353rd bomber squadron formed the first-box and acted as the lead group. They experienced intense flak and the 301st bomber group's bombs flew short of their target. On the return flight from their mission over the Florisdolt Oil Refinery in Vienna, Austria, with one engine feathered and the group trying to maintain flight formation, Warren's B-17 and the one above them collided tearing off the cockpit and tail. His plane caught on fire, went into a spin and exploded when it hit the ground. Only three of the crewmen were able to bail out and safely return to base.

When the war was over my father had planned to become a commercial airline pilot in Seattle Washington. Therefore it was decided my mother and I would make a long train trip from Baltimore across the county to stay with Warren's parents in Orchards, Washington. My grandparents received a Western union from the Secretary of War on December 2, 1944 to report their son missing in action. Upon our arrival in Orchards, Warren's last letter, written the night before his death, was waiting to be read. A year later, in November 1945, my mother received from the War Department a letter declaring his official finding of death.

To this day, every time I wrap a bath towel around my back and swish it back and forth to dry off, I think of him. Shortly after his death my mother told me, while teaching me how to do it myself, that was the way my daddy did it. I have vague memories of life with him in Sebring and Avon Park, mostly enhanced by pictures in a family album. It was not until my stepfather passed away in 1988 that my mother shared memories of her life with Warren before and during the war. Before she passed away in 2000, she gave me his diary from Cadet School and letters that helped me glean insight into his personality. The last entry in her diary was November 7, 1944, the day we began our journey to Washington State.

During a 1996 AWON Conference I had an opportunity to go to the National Archives to retrieve all of the war records related to that fateful day in November. When I opened the "after report" box and pulled out the file folder for November 18th, I cried over the death of my father for the very first time in fifty-two years. In 2001 I made the trip to Italy to visit his grave site and was happy to see what a beautiful place where he now rests in peace.