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Growing up in Nashville during the Civil War centennial, I was fascinated by stories of soldiers and battles from another era. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was surrounded by another generation of heroes—men and women who had just returned from World War II.

One of them was my father. Horace Edward Skinner joined the Army Air Corps after high school and became a B-24 tail gunner with the legendary 90th Bombardment Group—the Jolly Rogers. His crew called themselves Jasper’s Jokers, named for their pilot, Lt. Jasper Skinner (no relation).

Dad rarely talked about the war. After he passed away in 1997, I discovered his squadron yearbook and began tracking down the surviving members of his crew. Those conversations opened a door to stories I wish I had heard from Dad himself. They eventually inspired my 15-song concept album, Jolly Roger Tailgunner (https://equilt.com/JRTGFlipbook/mobile/index.html#p=1). Three of those songs are featured in this episode.

“Big Blue Battlefield” tells the incredible story of a 1945 mission over Formosa—and how a split-second change in formation may have saved my father’s life… and ultimately allowed me to be here to tell his story.

“Big Chief” tells the (tribal and combat) story of Chief Leaford Bearskin, a Wyandotte tribal chief and Jolly Rogers B-24 pilot who survived combat so intense that he described the flak as being so thick he felt he could “walk on it.”

And “Willow Run” is my tribute to my mother, Ruth Sexton Skinner, who left Tennessee during the war to work in a Detroit factory. I took some creative liberties with the details, but the heart of the song is true: it is a tribute to a woman who did her part while her country was at war.

These aren't just songs. They're pieces of my family's history. They're stories of sacrifice, courage, survival—and the men and women who quietly did what had to be done.

I launched “The Greatest Generation” podcast to honor my father, his crew, the Jolly Rogers, my mother, and all those who served and sacrificed to help keep this nation free.

I hope you'll take a few minutes to listen. And if you have a parent, grandparent, or loved one who served, maybe it will bring back a story of your own.

© 2026 David Ray Skinner/Electric Quilt Music, BMI

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The Civil War transformed America, and my fascination with it began as a child when my Uncle Ray gave me the book, “The Civil War in Middle Tennessee,” a reprint of a series by Ed Huddleston, originally published as four separate supplements in the Nashville Banner in the early 1960s to commemorate the war’s centennial. Growing up in Nashville and spending summers in Clarksville and Dover—near Fort Donelson—I became fascinated by the region’s overlooked Civil War history. By college, that fascination had evolved into songs and eventually, my 1993 concept album John Hunt Morgan: A Southern Legend, later re-released as Morgan’s War-Song. The first two songs in this episode are from that collection.

“Asylum Raid” tells how Morgan’s men, disguised in Union uniforms, infiltrated federal troops camped on the grounds of the Tennessee Lunatic Asylum and captured more than 80 prisoners—sparking a bizarre battle watched by patients from the windows in the shadow of the asylum.

“Black Clouds Above the L&N” is the story of Morgan’s brother-in-law Basil Duke and his attacks on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, including the destruction of the Gallatin tunnels and the Muldraugh trestles, both vital supply lines for the Union Army. The irony: after the war, Duke became the railroad’s chief counsel.

“Belly of a UFO” is a tall tale inspired by a 1988 Weekly World News headline about a UFO bearing a Confederate flag. I imagined an alien sent to aid the Confederacy who loses the weapons in a moonshine-fueled card game, then spends generations hiding on Earth—until he sees the UFO headline and fears his past has caught up with him.

© 2026 David Ray Skinner/Electric Quilt Music, BMI

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By the end of 1975, I’d graduated from college, lived in East Tennessee, worked for a newspaper, traveled to California, and returned to Nashville to write songs with Lee Owens. We recorded demos and performed at San Antonio’s River Festival, but by 1977, Nashville executives said our music wasn’t “country enough” and suggested New York or Los Angeles.

Then my old friend Stephen Kling called from Manhattan with a job at Record World. A few weeks later, I packed my ’66 VW van and headed north—a Tennessee catfish in the Hudson River.

I became Assistant Art Director and, in 1980, Art Director. From the 42nd floor of 1700 Broadway, I had a front-row seat to the music world, while nights at the Lone Star Café brought encounters with Willie Nelson, Hank Williams Jr., and Levon Helm. Those experiences inspired my fictitious song, “Lindalu.”

Then came John Lennon’s murder in December 1980. At Record World, we scrapped our issue for a special Lennon edition. Days later, I joined half a million people in Central Park for his memorial. Hearing “Imagine,” I realized my youth had ended. Years later, I turned that moment into “Frozen Tears.”

When Record World folded in 1982, I became Art Director of Doubleday’s Literary Guild. Needing a “disposable car” for New York, I asked my dad, who gave me a 1962 Buick Special with a new cassette radio. One day, while listening to Flatt & Scruggs’ “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” the Buick had its own breakdown—a blown tire on the BQE.

I returned South in 1984, but the incident inspired my final song, “Breakdown on the BQE.” I changed the Buick to an ’83 because it rhymed with BQE, but the bluegrass and blown tire are true.

© 2026 David Ray Skinner/Electric Quilt Music, BMI