Driving through his hometown of Clayton a few years ago, Sam Robertson could see the police cruiser following closely behind. He realized the police officer was purposefully following him and he knew why. As Robertson parked his car in his driveway the cruiser inched up to his back bumper. The officer quickly approached his vehicle.

“Mr. Robertson, do you know why I stopped you? You weren’t wearing a seat belt,” said the officer. “I know,” said Robertson. “And I don’t plan to (wear it).”

Surprised by the answer, the officer inquired why he refused to comply with the law. Robertson began to rummage through his wallet and pulled out a yellowing piece of paper that had been folded into a small square.

He then handed the paper to the now thoroughly perplexed officer who began to read the neatly typed note from a local doctor.

“Mr. Samuel E. Robertson has a phobia against being restrained which dates to an incident which occurred during World War II in Europe,” stated the note. “Because of the severe nature of this phobia of being restrained I’m requesting that he be exempt from wearing a seat belt while riding in a car.”

After glancing from the note back to Robertson a couple of times the officer admitted he never saw an excuse quite like this one.

“I called the state highway patrol and they said they would honor it,” said Robertson. “Well, if they can honor it then we can, too,” said the officer as he handed the note back to him. “Just be careful out there.”

That is a tale that Robertson enjoys to tell, smiling and chuckling at several points throughout the story. But the 92-year-old former B-17 ball turret gunner isn’t nearly as comfortable discussing the harrowing incident that caused his phobia.

It occurred in early 1945 during a bombing mission somewhere over Germany. Heavy anti-aircraft fire damaged Robertson’s B-17 and left him trapped in the turret on the belly of the plane.

The ball turret gunner was normally seated topside whenever a plane was landing. But this time Robertson, tightly belted into his seat, sat terrified just a couple of feet from the ground as the torn up bomber landed back in England.

As soon as he was extracted from the plane, Robertson swore to himself that he would never fly again once the war had ended. It was a vow that lasted until 1988, more than four decades later.

“I had to get back in (the B-17) until the war was over,” said Robertson. “But I told myself that if I ever got to the place where I didn’t have to wear (a seat belt) then I won’t. I also never intended to fly again unless it was an emergency.

“But I got the chance to go to a Final Four basketball game in Kansas City that Duke was involved in,” he added with a big smile. “So, I thought that was an emergency.” Well known name

Sam Robertson is certainly no stranger to folks with long ties to the Clayton area. Born on Sept. 24, 1917, he was the youngest of three children raised by Battle Moore and Claudia Robertson. Battle began the B.M. Robertson Mule Company in 1902, which became the longest running business in town history. Sam still owns the large farm equipment building that stands on Lombard St. near the downtown.

The Robertsons are also known for being descendants of Gen. James Robertson, a Revolutionary War hero who helped found the city of Nashville, TN. Nearly 140 years after his death, the United States named a World War II Liberty ship in his honor.

Tragedy struck the Robertson family in 1929 when Battle passed away. The death left a huge void in Sam’s life.

“I was only 12 years old when he died,” said Robertson. “My brother was much older than me, he was about 23 at the time, and he kind of took over the business. I was too young to be involved and, really, I never planned to become involved.”

An avid baseball player, Robertson participated in sports throughout his childhood and teen years. When he finished the 11th grade at Clayton he was sent to a private academy in Fort Royal, VA, for one year.

“I wouldn’t say I was a good student,” laughed Robertson. “We only had 11 grades here in Clayton and my mother wanted me to have 12 years of school. I just did what I was told and I ended up with two graduations.”

The extra year paid off as Robertson was accepted into Duke University in 1935 where he studied accounting. But fearing he wouldn’t find a job if he stayed in school too long he decided to enter the workforce.

“I only attended Duke for about 2 ½ years,” said Robertson. “Back in the Depression you could see college graduates sweeping streets, working in gas stations, doing anything they could. So I decided I was going to get a job.”

While still a student, Robertson began searching around Durham for employment. Time and again he was turned away and told that nobody was hiring. His luck finally changed during a visit to the Liggett-Meyers Tobacco Company.

“I stopped in and was told they weren’t hiring,” said Robertson. “It happened to be close to tobacco buying season and they did hire five of us for seasonal work. Luckily, after that season ended I got a job there.” Robertson was hired as a full-time office clerk in 1938. Just two years later he got married and began turning his focus on family life. The far off rumblings of war in Europe and Asia meant little to him. “A young fella like me, I didn’t have much feelings either way about a war,” said Robertson. “I was interested in trying to make a living and was glad I had a job.”

His outlook changed during a Dec. 7, 1941 visit with his mother in Clayton. “I came home that weekend and was at my mother’s house,” said Robertson. “The news came on the radio.”

The Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor and America was now embroiled in World War II. Time to go

As the war quickly escalated Robertson noticed more and more empty desks at the Liggett-Meyers office. For more than a year the military draft took co-workers all around him while Robertson remained uncalled. Knowing that he had a very high draft number and might not receive a draft notice for quite some time, Robertson became impatient and decided to take matters into his own hands.

“They had drawings for the draft and I began to see fellas working in the office with me leaving for the service,” said Robertson. “I began to see the fellas go and I thought, ‘What am I doing here? I need to get in this thing.’ Finally, I went to the draft board and told them to put me on the next draft list. So they drafted me.”

Robertson can’t recall if he discussed the decision with his wife, Betsie. But in early 1943, with the war’s outcome still very much in doubt, there really wasn’t much to talk about.

“I don’t recall if I spoke to her or not,” said Robertson. “But all of our friends were going and she knew it was just a matter of time. It wasn’t a big issue then.”

Besides, Robertson was eager to begin pursuing his longtime goal of becoming a pilot in the U.S. Army Air Forces.

“Oh, man, I thought I was going to be a hot shot pilot,” said Robertson.

Robertson began basic training in mid-April of 1943 in St. Petersburg, FL. He took the pilot’s test and was quickly accepted into pilot training.

“Everything was done quickly then,” said Robertson. “A year was an eternity back then.”

Robertson began pilot training at Souther Field in Americus, GA under the tutelage of a former barnstormer, Mike Delaney. He learned the basics of flying in an old PT 17 Stearman biplane.

“Mike was hired by the government to train young pilots like myself,” said Robertson. “Boy, he could fly that airplane. He took me out and just wrung me out. He wanted to see if I could take it and luckily I did.”

Three of the five trainees in Robertson’s group soon washed out. The two remaining pilots then had to fly solo for the first time, an experience that still makes Robertson laugh.

“He told me to go around the field five times and come in on the fifth time,” said Robertson. “I thought I was doing great. The cockpit sits back and you’ve got to have a feel for where the ground is when you land. My first time, I landed about fifty feet in the air. I thought I was close to the ground but I wasn’t. You know what happens when a rubber ball drops, don’t you? That thing bounced right back up like a rubber ball.

“Not knowing anything I pushed my throttle up and took off. Later, they rushed me to the hospital to see if I was all right. Mike said, ‘What happened to you?’ I said, ‘I thought I was on the ground.’ I knew how to do it the next time, though.”

Soon after completing basic flight training Robertson was slated to begin primary training. But the Army had different plans for the trainees.

“The order came to cut the entire school out,” said Robertson. “They didn’t need pilots any more. They needed gunners. I was very, very disappointed.”

Robertson was sent to Kingman, AZ where he took a rushed gunnery training course.

“They needed us so bad for those crews that they just shot us through,” said Robertson. “If you didn’t get something the first time they told you then you just didn’t get it.”

Following gunnery school Robertson was assigned to a B-17 crew at Drew Field near Tampa, FL.

Following numerous training missions, the crew was sent to Turner Army Airfield in Georgia before flying to England in December of 1944. Once in England the crew was placed in a reserve pool until they were needed.

“We were there until we were needed by one of the squadrons or units,” said Robertson. “We were there for a couple of weeks before we started flying. Then, boy, did they fly us. They nearly flew us every day.” Part two of this story will appear in next week’s edition.