First-Hand:The War Years, 1941-1946
Introduction
Submitted by Denny D. Pidhayny, 2000
Denny Pidhayny (right)
Like "SHOWBOAT" this is an American Story ...
Lovely Ladies, Kind Gentlemen:
Reflecting, I recall the words of Alexander Dumas when he wrote in his book, "Twenty Years After," which is the story of the reuniting of the Three Musketeers with D' Artagnan ... "I often wonder,' said Athos, smiling at the gaiety that recalled the happy days of old, "how we managed to form a band of comrades so closely bound together that they are still united after a separation of twenty years. Friendship strikes its roots deep into some hearts. Believe me, "only worthless men deny its power because they are incapable of feeling it ... "
The time was summer, July 21, 1941. I had completed three years in electrical engineering at Wayne University in Detroit, Michigan. This had taken some five years as I worked during the day and went to night school and vice versa. That was the day the draft notice said report to Camp Grant, Illinois. There I expected to get it over within one year and get back to school, but as I boarded the train along with other draftees, the newspaper boys were yelling "Extra, Extra-the draft extended 18 months." With this introduction, I became part of General Marshall's citizen army.
A few days through the reception center and after processing, a group of us were sent to some place in California. The memory of 104°F at Burlington, Iowa, on the Mississippi River still haunts me to this day. The train's air conditioning system never worked. We got a wonderful view of our land across the Great Plains, the Royal Gorge, and over the Rockies and then the Sierra Nevadas into the Sacramento Valley winding up at Mather Field some ten miles southeast of the city of Sacramento. I have never forgotten the sound of the train whistle as we crossed our Great Plains and prairies.
Three weeks of recruit drill was followed by assignment as a radioman to the 342nd School Squadron, which had AT-7 twin engine Beech aircraft for training navigators. Because of my amateur radio experience, they felt this was the proper place for me. We had radio compasses, beacons, and medium wave command transmitter-receiver sets - I believe they were 3010 kHz and 6020 kHz; I also remember the Army Airways Communications Systems (AACS) and I further recall the need to monthly update the airways' book of charts. I was a Private, Fifth Class specialist making $27 a month.
Mather Field was being rebuilt. It was under caretaker status since WW-1 . Much construction was going on. They also had an advanced pilot's trainee's school using AT- 9 aircraft. About this time we heard that James Stewart was an advanced pilot student. In those days, it was a very pleasant experience to be stationed near the foothills of the High Sierra Nevada Mountains; to look out in the early morning and see the snow-covered peaks was a silver lining never forgotten.
The land between Mather Field and Sacramento was clear for miles. A mile from the entrance to our base was a town called Mills. It had a general store. Many an evening we walked over for a drink of Dr. Pepper. Fair Oaks was also a local town nearby. The American River flowed nearby it, but as the water came from the mountains it was always cold.
The work was interesting and it included much flying. Three students were carried and I sat in the co-pilot's seat. We flew at 14,000 to 16,000 feet using oxygen masks. The route was up beyond Eureka, Ft. Bragg, and over the Pacific Ocean, then down to Bakersfield. The starlit sky at night was something to behold. Also, the old army sergeant who we called "Fly Wheel Kelly" and who ran the radio section had the wisdom of experience. We had a fine group of fellows mostly from the Midwest. They were in all the squadron activities of maintenance and administration.
The subject of work details is part of the service of the young recruit. One day four of us were assigned to a 2-1/2 ton GI truck and told we were to pick up grass or plants from a nursery located west of the base. As we were returning from the assignment, we were moving alongside a road that was eight feet above the river. Looking out the rear end of the GI truck we noticed that a liquor truck was behind us and all of a sudden we observed the truck flipped over the bank. We stopped and ran over to the liquor truck and found bottles scattered everywhere. Since I was not drinking in those days, I only took three bottles of Tom Collins mixer and passed them on to the Section Sergeant who put them into the radio parts cabinet.
One day, out of the clear-blue sky, two Technical Air Inspectors (Captains) arrived to check out maintenance operations of our section. They were very strict. As the Air Inspector opened up the parts cabinet our hearts sank. They scrutinized the cabinet in minute detail. They asked the section sergeant about the Tom Collins mixers. He replied in a nonchalant manner that it belonged to the fellows on the night shift. The Captains let us off with a twinkle in their eyes and told us to remove the contents.
Over the years, I have listened to people who have quite a story to tell of what they did December 7, 1941 . No one has ever asked me, but now I will tell you. During the early morning hour of that Sunday, I headed out to Sacramento with my camera. I took a few pictures and visited a few stores. I stopped at a radio parts store. The owner was a World War I veteran. He said not everyone dies in a war. Later I returned to the base and there were all kinds of excitement afoot. They threw a 1900 vintage Endfield Rifle into my hands and said "You will patrol the runway from 12:00 midnight to 4:00 AM." There was a Japanese village nearby. The only life I found was the jack rabbits. After a few days, it was discontinued.
The War did cause a step-up of training and some expansion. Much excitement took place a few days later when a group of P-36 fighter aircraft flew in on their way to some unknown destination. We were put on alert status to move to Deming, New Mexico, but nothing came of that.
I had the good fortune to have served a few people who were the last of the "Old Army Air Corps." These fellows held higher grades but they knew their work well.
Years ago, I had thought of writing a book called "My Camera and I." From this book that was never written, I would like to relate a few pages:
On the Flight Line
As the pressure built to train more navigators, maximum flying time was the goal for all our aircraft. There was strong competition between squadrons. We had one aircraft that was not allowed to fly night flights because the fuel gauge in No. 4 position gave the wrong reading. The aircraft was sent to the depot three times but always returned in the same condition.
Finally, I assume in desperation, the Line Chief, an old army soldier (a Master Sergeant), and he was God, came to our section sergeant and said, "Send Pidhayny out there and see if he can find out what is wrong."
As told, I latched on to the crew chief and went out to the airplane. To get behind the instrument panel you had to be a trained monkey but being young I made it. After some observation, then removing the connector, I found that a metal sliver of the braided shield would cause a short when connected to the selector switch. With the connector removed, everything checked out with no shorts. The sliver was removed and the braid was secured. That cured the problem. The crew chief was happy; affectionately he called his aircraft "My Betsey."
On the following day, the Line Chief came in and said, "Good work." Later, the Squadron Commander called me in and said he was happy to hear the problem was corrected. He was a Major with the last name of Minor. In a short time, the news spread over the whole airfield. From that day on, I wore the uniform and not vice versa.
My working shift was during the night. After all the aircraft took off, there was a stillness in the air. During this time, roughly 9 p.m. to 10 p.m., taps was blown. All work ceased. It was always very moving.
On the Road to Folsom
Prior to the war, I was known in our section as quite a walker and hiker. We had a fellow whom I will call Paul who was quite a braggart and he claimed he could out-walk anyone. Our section sergeant said that he was no match for Pidhayny. Paul then challenged me to a walk. It was decided that Sunday morning we would walk from Mather Field to Folsom - some ten country miles down Highway 50.
Sunday came and away we went. We kept a good pace but by the time we got to Folsom, he was dragging. As many cars wanted to pick us up, he asked if maybe I was tired but I said no. We arrived in Folsom and I had only 36 cents. We stopped in the West Coast Cafe and told the kind waitress that we had only 36 cents between us. She told us to be seated and went back to see the chef. She came back and informed us that all was on the house. It was a very good lunch. Having been in the service just a few months made us veterans. The waitress' brother had just been inducted into the service and she wanted to hear what he was going to experience.
I tried to talk Paul into walking back to Mather Field, but he would have no part of it. The subject of walking was not discussed again. We hitched back to the airfield.
On the Road to Grass Valley
We were given one day a week free time. Usually I would strike an arc of 100 miles and pick a place. Grass Valley has quite an historical background such as gold, Lola Montez, etc. As I was hitchhiking some 20 miles from Grass Valley, along came a Model T Ford built like a sheeny rag wagon with an old gentleman sitting on top. He stopped and asked me if I was going to Grass Valley. When I said "yes", he asked if I had been there before. His answer to my "no" was, "Young boy, Grass Valley has never seen prohibition or the end of prostitution."
Logging Mill in the Sierra
In early October, 1941, once again I hitchhiked to the woodlands of the High Sierras. I was picked up by a mechanical engineer from the California State Capitol. He and his wife wanted me to join them to see a friend of theirs at a logging camp so I went along. The logging mill was in mountainous woodlands in an out-of-the-way place. We spent some time looking, or better, being amazed at the operation of slicing logs. The manhandling of the logs is something to behold. The profit of the business rests on the shoulders of the fellow who selects the slices. After the visit, my host asked if I could go along to pick up some apples at an orchard a few miles away. We drove up to a log cabin-type house. Standing on the porch, I pulled the rope that was attached to a woodpecker and that was the bell-ringer. Standing directly in front of the door as it opened, a middle-aged lady came out, looked at me and said, "My, my, what a wonderful solder ... you must meet my niece." I was dumbfounded. Anyway, a load of apples was put into the car. That evening I told the fellows in the barracks and they laughed for days.
The Music That Followed
The center of entertainment in Sacramento was the War Memorial Auditorium. I recall taking a date to see Sigmund Romberg's "Blossom Time." Later she became a nun stationed in South America. I recall Verdi's "Rigoletto" played by Lawrence Tibbetts, Lily Pons gave a great performance. Another GI and I took in "Madame Butterfly" in November, 1941. I told my friend that this was bad for US-Japanese relations.
The Memory that Lingers On
The prewar draftee's army - or as General Marshall would call "The Citizens' Army," was a lonely group. That was reflected in the song that we sang, "You are My Sunshine." I heard it on the flight line, the work details, and wherever GIs got together. It was their song.
A Correct But Tragic Prediction
In late November, 1941, I went home on an emergency furlough as my father was killed by a car while waiting in a safety zone. The return was by way of the Moffet Tunnel. I returned to the barracks early on the morning of December 4 just before wake-up time. We had one older draftee from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, who was continuously griping, but that morning he was very happy. I asked him why the change. He said that he was going home on furlough December 20 to get married. I told him that we would be at war by then. War came, all furloughs were canceled, and he wouldn't speak to me for weeks.
Normal Operations
The war brought many scares, proposed evacuations, and step-up of training, along with rapid promotions and reorganization. There is no equal to being promoted to a Corporal. With this grade, I did shut up one of our heavy talkers. Later, I was a Buck Sergeant; having been made a Buck Sergeant, I slept in a room in the entrance to the wooden barracks. We had a new group of recruits sent from the Midwest in the remainder of the barracks. One member was a big husky Swede who would, while sleeping, make a horrible gasp. The other recruits were afraid to tell him to shut up for fear he could tear them apart. As I was on the night shift out on the flight line, I had to come back to the barracks to pick up something. As I approached the barracks, I could hear this gasping sound. Being skin and bones, 132 lbs., and in coveralls, I approached and awakened the Swede. He was ready to react but when he saw my sergeant's stripes he froze. I told him that he would have to see the medics in the morning. Later, I contacted the Charge of Quarters (CQ) who informed me that the Swede was transferred out of the squadron. We never saw him again. He was a good fellow when normal. In all my years in the service pulling grade or rank on my fellow troops, this was a high point for me.
More Travel
The trips I made to the Angels Camp, Sonora, Jackson, Kyburz, Lake Tahoe, and especially the view from the overhanging cliff at Echo Summit overlooking Emerald Bay has always remained a pleasant memory. I recall the visit to Angels Camp a few days after a fire. The trout luncheon at Sonora was delightful. Mark Twain's shack on "Jackass Hill" stood out like a beacon. The West Coast towns of Santa Rosa, Sonoma, Palo Alto, Oakland and Berkeley were places I also visited. The campus at Stanford University with its lake and the flowerbeds was a panorama of great beauty. The campus of the University of California was a grand expanse. A buddy had a motorbike. On one of our trips, I sat in back as we drove on Highway 50 up to Lake Tahoe at speeds of 90 mph. The view was overwhelming. Lunch at the log cabin restaurant now known as Al Martins up Tahoe way has not been forgotten. A view of Emerald Bay from the protruding rock at Echo Summit is also an embracing natural wonder.
Jackson was a notorious town in those days. It was one of the richest gold mining places. One day I poked into a tavern only to find slot machines, etc. and striking paintings on the bar walls.
The laws of California did not apply here. In 1953, the Women's Christian Temperance Union put a halt to this way of life.
In the 1950s, my wife and I stopped at a gas station near Jackson. The owner was a talkative fellow who said the place had changed. He pointed to two houses on the hill and said they were closed.
In 1964 while dealing with Westinghouse in Baltimore, I took a taxicab from downtown Baltimore to the Westinghouse Plant at the airport. The taxicab driver asked where I was from and I said California. He was interested in California. I told him of my trips through the Mother Lode country. He then asked what became of the two houses on the hill in Jackson. I said there were closed down. He was stationed near Sacramento and was sad to hear of the closure.
Eastward Bound
With the war on, pressure was on, too, to recruit communications officers. I applied and on July 6, 1942, I was on my way to Scott Field, Illinois.
During the night hours I boarded a train east. A young boy about ten years old had been put on the train to go visit his grandfolks in the East. I temporarily became his big brother. We stopped in Denver and I bought him an ice cream sundae. Being a Buck Sergeant, I looked very big to him. He had a great time.
I was in the last group to receive an Officer Reserve Commission as a Second Lieutenant, U.S. Army Air Corps. Scott Field in the summer was a service of penance and the same could be said of winter with the cheap coal soot all about.
The highlight of the stay was one Sunday in St. Louis about 27 miles west. I spent an afternoon going down the Mississippi River in the paddle riverboat called SS Admiral.
I had very little difficulty in completing the course. It was a night and day operation. As a cadet, I caught holy hell from the upper classmen because I had come in as a sergeant. Most of the cadets were from civilian life. Of 230 cadets, 13 were singled out to go to Harvard University - Massachusetts Institute of Technology Radar School. Officially, it was called Army-Navy-Air Force Electronics Training Command. We arrived in late November. It was a seven-month course. Five of us Air Corps fellows lived in a large English mansion at 6 Walnut Avenue in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The landlady was a very remarkable elderly woman. We learned much of the local history and people. Her husband was a true musical scholar. I called his room "Symphony Hall." He made numerous trips to New York just to hear musical concerts. There were 12 to 15 student officers staying at his residence. We had breakfast and dinner, and every evening the landlady sat at the piano and played "Onward Christian Soldiers." Her daughter helped run the place and she was in a continuous state of excitement. There was life here. She was engaged to marry a corporal who was stationed in Australia. We heard much about him. While in New York City in 1943, I came back to 6 Walnut Avenue one weekend. The landlady's daughter told me that a Major, a graduate from West Point, had proposed to her. I told her to stick with the Corporal from Australia. In the late 1950s, I visited 6 Walnut and met the Corporal. What a handshake!
The course went like this. The first month was at the Pierce Hall of Engineering with Professor Dawes and then three months at the Cruft Communications Building. In those days on top of the Cruft Building were high antennas that were used for measuring the height of the ionosphere layers. One of our experiments was to measure the height of the D, E & F layers. The HQ was the old law building called Austin Hall. The lecture rooms were in the new Langell Law Building. The civilian staff at Harvard was headed up by Professor Leon Chaffee. Others were Wing, Nimno, Stockman, La Cobbrier, Rudenberg and others. They were tops. Further, the laboratory work was intensive. All sessions were in Harvard Square. The remaining three months were at the MIT Harbor Building in South Station, Boston. The cold wind blew like holy hell in South Station.
The Radio Engineering Laboratory under Professor Frederick Terman had its headquarters in the Cruft Building. They were responsible for the ferret and countermeasures activities. Dr. Arthur Waynic, former Wayne University Professor, gave me a tour of some receiving and transmitting equipment that was used in an ionosphere test run in Siberia during an eclipse in 1928.
The Fleeting Linda
While at 6 Walnut Avenue, one of our Air Force officers would sit on the bed and appear to meditate like a Yoga. He spoke at times of Linda. In 1974, I visited him for the first time since the War. He introduced me to his wife, Linda. I next said that I heard much of her during the stay in Cambridge. She replied, "I never knew him during the war."
The officer in charge was Col. Fox, a WW-I communications officer and later a Professor of Astronomy at Northwestern. He was strict as hell but he was first-rate and fair, and beware if he caught a student sleeping during the lectures. The radar course was all work.
There are No Secrets
Boston was a great place in those days. We Air Force troops were very close. Everything was known - that is, almost. Anyway, one Saturday evening they asked me where I was going. I said Boston. Be it so, I had met a girl who was going to the New England ConseNatory of Music. That night I took her to the Old Boston Opera House to hear Verdi's "Aida." Such grandeur!
As we took our seats ten minutes later, unexpectedly alongside us were two of my fellow officers. Who could forget Kitty Carlyle in "The Merry Widow" or dinner at the "Old Mill Dam" in Concord? "Dear Ruth" and "Die Fledermaus" were enjoyable. One could die laughing in the final act of Die Fledermaus. The jail keeper and inmates had too much champagne and slivetz to drink.
We were in Cambridge during the time of the Coconut Grove fire in which some 400 plus people were lost. We lost six student officers from the Army and Navy. Col. Fox, the Commanding Officer, called us together and said with regard to the fire, "If you must die, be it better at grips with the enemy."
Using the local bus service on Sundays, I visited Lexington and Concord and saw much of our early history such as Emerson's, Hawthorne's and Alcott's homes plus the Old Colonial Inn in Concord. These were quiet places in those days. The two Minute Men of Concord and Lexington stood guard. I visited Salem to see the "House of the Seven Gables." It was cold; -35° below zero. Sunday afternoon chicken dinner at the Old Mill Dam in Concord was a never forgotten pleasant experience.
Upon completion in June, 1943, my next station was Boca Raton, Florida, where we flew low frequency VHF radar-equipped B-34 aircraft over the Caribbean and Atlantic Ocean.
After a few months, in October, I spent a month at the Graybar Varick Building of the Bell Laboratories, Western Electric facility where the first five prototypes AN/APQ-13 radar systems were being built. This was New York City. The first three nights there I stayed at the old Hotel Pennsylvania at $2.25 a night, and later moved to an apartment at 160th Street and Riverside Drive near Columbia University. There I was constantly stopped by military police for identification purposes. One evening I tried to see "Oklahoma" but had no luck. I did see "Rosalinda" which is "The Bat" and "Die Fledermaus." Another pleasant musical I saw was the "Merry Widow."
The Western Electric facility was located on or near Canal Street in Greenwich Village. The village was a center of writers, scholars, philosophers, artists and others. What a fantastic expression of human endeavor!
During this period, the lights of Broadway were something. The huge marquee of the motion picture, "For Whom the Bell Tolls", is marked in my memory. What wonderful, insane madness was the clamor that was Broadway and its people. During the farewell dinner, I sat near Mr. Donald Quarles, a VP from the Western Electric Company, who later ran Sandia and then became Secretary of Defense. They were outstanding.
The Western Electric Building was near Greenwich Village and Washington Square. What culture we have lost!
A period of some two weeks was next spent at the Aircraft Radio Laboratory (ARL) at Wright Field, Dayton, Ohio. It was at this time that I saw the SCR-702 S-band airborne conical scan automatic tracking radar, sometimes called the airborne SCR-584; although for interceptor use one was tested in the tail position of a B-24. The set never saw combat.
While in Boca Raton, we first lived on the airbase. Later, upon return from Dayton, Ohio, it was in the exclusive Boca Raton Club. This was the ultimate in class for a total of ten days. The Boca Raton Air Field was the headquarters of Aircraft Radio Laboratory (ARL); this facility was used as a test and measuring site for radar, radio, and communication equipment.
During the time at the Boca Raton Air Base, I served one month as guard officer on the night shift. We had 56 guard posts, many in isolated spots. One night a guard called, hysterical, that somebody was shooting at him. The sergeant and I hopped into a jeep and headed out to the ocean post. We scouted the area but found no trace. We ran over a coral snake. You have to appear heroic, but in the dark, the situation is frightening.
There were two towers facing the ocean. One contained the LORAN receiving equipment used for monitoring the signal propagation. The second contained a radar station that scanned the ocean.
The most pleasant part of this guard officer duty was that I was entitled to dine in the WAC's mess hall that was the best on the base.
The Arrow Is In The Wind
The choices were a) remain at Boca Raton and teach the AN/ APQ-13 B-29 radar system or, b) be sent to a combat unit. November 18, 1943, I was at the Smoky Hill Army Air Field, Salina, Kansas, assigned to the 58th Bomb Wing, 468th Bomb Group, 792nd Bomb Squadron as a radar electronics officer of the first Bomb Wing of the coming 20th Air Force that was to be.
Upon arrival, I reported to the group commander as required by protocol. I stated my name and rank and said I had come from the Bell Labs/Western Electric schooled on the AN/APQ-13 radar system. I turned about and was ready to leave when he said "sit down" and offered me a cigarette. But I refused as I did not smoke. The group commander was Col. Howard F. Engler - he served in North Africa and was part of the "Old Army Corps." He was a command pilot which was something in November 1943. He asked many questions about the new radar sets just being built. He showed great interest. After 45 minutes, I left knowing that he was a first rate officer, a strict disciplinarian, but fair. He formed the 468th Bomb Group. When we set up a radar school plus equipment, he took a great interest. He put us in shape for overseas service.
There were no radar facilities at Salina. The four squadron radar officers of the group began to set up a school. The AN/APQ-13 radar would not be available for months, so an SCR-717 S-Band microwave set was installed, plus a mapping radar simulator. The SCR-117 radar antenna was ten feet off the ground. I tried to get it higher but the Group Engineering Officer did not approve. One day Col. Engler, the Group Commander, visited our school. I demonstrated the radar set. At an antenna height of ten feet, we could map a few hills and high structures. At this point, I said that if we had the antenna at 45 feet we could see downtown Salina. No sooner said than the Group Commander said, "Lieutenant if you knew it would be better you should have set it at 45 feet" ... I caught hell.
That afternoon I went to the Group Engineering Officer, an Old Army Air Corps sage. He had his feet on the desk when I entered and saluted. I said "Col. Engler sent me here." His feet flew off the desk in a pretty snappy manner. He asked, "What does he want?" I said "raise the radar antenna to 45 feet with new poles." It was done but we were on our way overseas when completed.
Initially when reporting to the 792nd, I was assigned to be a lead flight radar operator. I checked out the winter flying suit and was set for training in the B-17 aircraft. In a few days orders came transferring me from the flight crew to the radar maintenance officer of the 13th Bomb Maintenance. At that time I was unaware of the reason for this change. About 35 years later while visiting Col. A. Harvey, Commander, 444th Bomb Group and his wife, he told me that the Harvard-MIT radar students were not allowed to fly combat for security reasons.
Years later, the late Jacob Beser told me that he was at Harvard at the same time I was, but he dropped out after the first month because he had found out that you could not fly combat missions if you became a Harvard-MIT radar officer. Jacob Beser became a radar ferret officer and was the only person to fly both atomic bomb missions.
We set up a radar school and taught a number of classes. I had no trouble and I began by saying, "Radar can save our life." Salina was the Headquarters of the 58th Bomb Wing. From November 1943 to January 1944, we prepared for an overseas move. Later I was assigned as a radar maintenance officer to the 792nd Bomb Squadron under Squadron Commander, Lt. Col. James V. Edmundson. In the move, we were assigned a new number called 13th Bomb Maintenance Squadron and later returned to the 792nd Bomb Squadron overseas when in India. Our maintenance squadron had, I believe, 365 enlisted troops and 13 officers.
High Class Thievery
I did not receive my radar troops until overseas; as such, I was given a platoon of medics, orderly room clerks, etc. for overseas training. Another assignment was to draw up the crates and boxes for the squadron equipment for shipment. I made the drawings; the depot made the boxes.
One day the intelligence officer informed me of the existence of a 16mm Bell and Howell sound projector in an out-of-the-way building. I had some boxes built and shipped it with the squadron equipment.
Salina, Kansas, was a quiet and friendly place, cold and the wind blew like hell and the rain came and we swam in the mud. All buildings were painted drab, making for a gloomy look.
Another high point was the Saturday morning session. At 9:00 a.m., the Group Commander entered and some 600 officers jumped up like a bullet out of a gun. You had to be in proper dress for he could spot you like a hawk.
For the move overseas, it went like this for the four Bomb Groups of the 58th.
The supporting maintenance squadrons, some four per group, were split and headed for Camp Anza, Los Angeles, California, and the other two headed by troop train for Hampton Roads, Virginia. This was the beginning of February 1944.
As we were ready to depart, Col. Howard Engler bid us farewell. He said if there were any troublemakers, transfer them out. From Camp Patrick Henry during February 12, after standing in the rain for hours, we boarded a victory ship called the SS Robert Hunter and joined a 97-ship convoy and headed to Control Point 2 Oran, French Algeria, North Africa, arriving March 3, after some 21 days at sea. We saw 45-foot waves in a few storms and experienced a "scare" or two. Standing on deck in the darkness of night is another experience never to be forgotten.
The ships' crew was from the Merchant Marines. A center section of the lower deck was used as a mess hall and recreation area. About the area were crates of oranges. My upper bunk was opposite the exposed area. As we hit the storm near Bermuda, I was holding on for "good of life" as the ship rolled and pitched. The inside of my stomach was an ellipse of motion. The wall panels began to "creek" due to the stress. Three-quarters to one inch of steel separated us from the ocean.
Meanwhile, from my bunk, I had a good view of the area. During the roll and pitch of the ship, the orange crates, etc. began to slide from one side to the other of the exposed area. Caught there, one of the ships' crew also began to slide back and forth. To this day, I have never forgotten his yell in desperation, "God, do you want to kill me?"
Passing through the Strait of Gibraltar the gun crews began firing the 40mm guns against a floating spherical mine. It must have been a dead one. Entrance to the skyblue Mediterranean Sea was a welcome change.
From our sister squadron, Corporal Theodore M. Hedderick, ASN 35716585, was buried at sea on February 27, 1944, due to a chronic heart ailment. The moment has remained.
While in Oran, we visited the Museum of the French Foreign Legion at Seddi-Bel-Abbes and the Follies Bergeres and although we did not know the French language, the view was pleasant. At the entrance to the Legion complex stood a very tall Moroccan Guard in dress cloak uniform with a rifle with an extended bayonet (triangular). The formal salute was the ultimate in military bearing.
Our tents were at Control Point 2, just outside of Oran at a town called Natusa. Periodically the squadron commander enjoyed having the troops march a few miles over the countryside. During our stay, contact was made with the Mediterranean Command and 16mm movies were shown using the projector I confiscated.
One late afternoon, I was in downtown Oran near a park and at 5:00 p.m., the US Army Band came through and played the French National Anthem (Marseilles) and later the Star Spangled Banner. Standing near me at attention was an old Frenchman and a young boy. This moving expression has remained a memory.
Another highlight of our stay was the evening visit via a 2 ½ ton GI truck to Murphy's Bar located west of Oran on the Mediterranean Shoreline. The driver drove like a bat out of hell. A tycoon's mansion was confiscated and made an allied officers club. The collection of allied people was something to behold plus all the drinking of green champagne. There were a few fights, plus sore heads the next day. The next day the executive officer, whom had not been with us the night before, requested I go with him. I hopped into the jeep and away we went. Although the sky blue Mediterranean was striking, I was shocked at those 700-foot drops on the side of the road. Thinking back we were lucky to be alive.
In Oran, Dr. Thomas Maxwell and I hiked about the harbor area. He was a brilliant pathologist. One such trek I recall for it was a happy moment for him.
On April 5, we joined a six-ship British convoy and headed eastward through the Mediterranean Sea to the Suez Canal. Passing near Crete in the morning, we were blown out of the sack by a salvo of depth charges. Down the Suez Canal, we headed and parked at Aden for a day. Now this is truly a hot place to say the least. Standing high on the deck of the ship and looking downward, I recall the view of an Arab on a small raft praying towards Mecca out in the Gulf against the intense sky-blue seas.
Aden was off limits for all US troops due to the anti-Christian religious fanaticism. From Aden, en route to Bombay, we heard over the radio the news of large explosions in the Port of Bombay, India. On our arrival April 25, we could see smoke from the effects of the seven or nine ammunition ships that exploded in the harbor. The Great Bombay Explosions were not due to enemy action but primarily to the lack of maritime safety provisions in storing cargo. Suffice it to say we were on a British-run troop transport called the SS Volendam. This service warrants a special citation - the highlight was the morning and afternoon tea and crumpets.
We spent two days in Bombay and then traveled by train for five days across Central India to Salua near Kharagpur, about 72 miles south of Calcutta. We arrived May 2. On one day we covered 24 miles. This was an experience unequaled. Revealed was the human tragedy of India, the youngsters with their "Baksheesh Sahib," etc. was there to see.
The covered wagon trail to the West was no match. We were now in the China-BurmaIndia Theater of War (CBI). One thing that one misses is the sound of the American train whistle. The trains in India and Africa gave a high pitched squeal.
After arriving from various directions, the groups began to settle down and erect the operating facilities and maintenance capabilities. The Army engineers had done their special work. Group headquarters got wind of our projector and they confiscated it for use by other groups. Just as we began to see progress, I was transferred to our forward base in the Pengshan-Hsinching-Chengtu, China, area as the radar and communications officer. Our forward base was called A-7 and was eight miles from Pengshan. This meant a 1200-mile flight over the Himalayan Mountains or the "Roof of the World" or the "Hump." Our flight by C-87, a converted B-24, took us first to Jorhat in the Assam Valley, then to Pengshan. We were pretty cold flying at 28,000 feet. By early June, the rear bases in the Salua area and the bases in the Chengtu area were set to go. About 200 personnel were permanently assigned to the forward base for fixed time intervals.
When they joined us later on, my radar technicians had been flown in by air. The radar shop was a victory plywood hut standing alongside the communications shack. Six technicians were assigned at the beginning. I also inherited a Master Sergeant from the 6th Air Force Caribbean Theater who did Radar Anti-Submarine Search. There was some concern, but he turned out to be the proper man. For the radar technicians it was tough going as they had no experience with the new B-29 AN/APQ-13 radar set. In time, they became very proficient and tops. As their officer, I lived out on the flight line.
The human experiences, some beyond the wildest imagination, could fill many volumes. The sight over the "Roof of the World" as seen from the bombardier's position was truly inspirational, and a moving experience. On one flight we had a 75% view across the Himalayan Mountains. The panorama is forever imprinted in my mind.
All wars have their legends. Ours was that if you went down, make sure you landed in the "Lolo" country. If captured, a white man had to become the father of all the children. Through the bombsight and drift meter telescopes we never found the place, but it actually existed.
At the forward base I set up a low power inter-base transmitting station, assembled an Adcock radio direction station, and a radar Low Frequency Beacon Station.
During our 1994 reunion in New Orleans, a fellow approached me and said he knew all about me. His name was Joseph Warner. He took over the electronic systems when I returned to the rear base in India. The local warlord had 250 bandits in his command. There was a few times where you heard a "ping" overhead while on the flight line.
Our Tragic Non-Combat Loss at the Rear Base (B-1)
One of our armament ordnance fellows was a passenger and a passing vehicle with an extended board passed by and struck the passenger, killing him instantly. I attended a moving burial farewell.
The First Mission from the Forward Base, A-7
The months of May and June 1944 saw a big movement of gasoline by B-29s into our four forward bases in the Chengtu area. June 16, 1944, was a great day. Our first mission at night against the Imperial Steel and Iron Works at Yawata on the Island of Kyushu was launched. The mission was directed by General Arnold to synchronize with the upcoming conquest of the Mariana Islands by the Naval, Marine, and Army forces. It all began with a loud bang at our forward base. One of our aircraft couldn't take off and it crashed in a rice paddy. A minute or two later, two loud explosions took place. I was on a small hill nearby and felt the shock wave as it blew me off the hill. The crew miraculously departed the aircraft and escaped with no casualties. This mission was only the beginning.
There are two memorable losses that have remained through time. One was on June 15, 1944. I had dinner opposite the Newsweek correspondent who later was lost on the Yawata mission. The other moment was when we lost three B-29s on take off. I believe one was from A-7 and 14 two were from the A-I Hsinching base. They carried 22 lb basic unit thermite incendiary bombs that kept going off in flashes for hours.
Our base was also near a river town called Quanpool. Eight miles away was a large town called Pengshang. Civilization existed there four thousand years ago. They grew three or four crops of rice a year. The rice paddies were havens for malaria carrying mosquitoes.
The Chinese ran the mess hall; fresh eggs and pork were the diet. If you could eat 24 eggs, they would serve you. The coffee tasted like a mixture of tea and coffee, horrible. In the post war years, a book was written which told of the romance of the Chinese girls in the rice paddies. Having been stationed at the forward base and talking to fellows at our reunions, this subject may have been the product of someone's wishful imagination. Having made some nine roundtrips to the forward base, I am at a loss when I read of the fellows chasing the girls in the rice paddies. Maybe it was somewhere else (too much sake or Carew's booze, or both).
One day while in Pengshang, a merchant waved me over to listen to a gramophone. He played a record for me. It was the song of the Merry Widow Waltz sung in Chinese. It was here that I witnessed the opium dens. That was a tragic sight.
At the forward base, the 16mm motion picture projectors obtained a power source from a small engine generator set. Unfortunately, the engine would at times slow down and this, in turn, caused the power transformer to bum out due to operating at a lower line frequency. In time, some three projectors were burned out. As a stop-gap measure, I took a power supply from a Hammarlund short wave set and it worked fine.
The time came for me to take the defective projectors to Barrackspor, Calcutta, for repair. From the base at Hsinching, I was the only passenger on a C-47 returning to India. The flight first landed at Imphal on the Burma India border. The approach was down the green valley. The Japanese were being driven away into the hills. At Imphal, some twenty Australian soldiers were picked up for transportation to Calcutta. They were very happy go lucky and some may say a crazy lot.
John Brown, our armament officer, was also assigned to our forward base. He introduced me to the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He recited nearly all of it in a most pleasant way. In the loneliness of the forward base, it was philosophically pleasant to hear such verse. He was excited about a new book on the Rubaiyat by S. Thirta, an Indian. The book was called "The Nectar of Grace." It describes the oriental rendition.
At the forward base, there was a Captain who was older and may have come from the rear headquarters outfit. Anyway, he was not friendly with us Lieutenants. Liquor was taboo at the forward base but he had quite a stock. One day Deputy Group Commander Colonel Theodore Faulkner came through on an inspection of the base. A few days later the Captain was gone.
From the Rear Base B-1, The Longest Bombing Mission of WW-II
In the hot summer of 1944, while on the flight line in Salua, I recall a visit by the group radar officer, Major Roy Sather. He asked if I wanted to go to what sounded to me like Salina. I replied amazed, "why Salina?" He then said it was Ceylon. I said I would be ready to go. A week later, we flew to the advance base at RAF China Bay, Trincomalee, Ceylon located on the East Coast. Enroute, the aircraft carrying the group officer returned to Salua due to the usual B-29 engine trouble. The airbase at RAF'; China Bay, was used by the British Forces. The hangars showed evidence of the Japanese attack in 1942. The color of the land, vegetation, and mountains in the background were green and a healthful contrast to our rear base in the Salua area. Upon arrival, we noted that the remaining three groups also had aircraft on the base. This was the first time the Wing operated from a single base. Wing strength at that time was about one half the total, or about 60 aircraft. This was because the other half headed north to our forward bases in the Chengtu area.
Upon completion of check-out of the group's radar systems and briefing the radar operators and navigators, we met in the high building to hear the main briefing. To this day, I can still remember the vivid and moving scene when Col. Theodore S. Faulkner, the Group Commander, rose and began by saying in a very dramatic way, "XXth Bomber Command attacks Palembang, Sumatra and Nagasaki, Japan!" Little did we realize at that time that Col. Faulkner in a few weeks would be killed while on a mission over Singapore. Palembang, Sumatra was Mission 5, and Nagasaki, Japan was Mission 6, and they were lumped into a group called Project Boomerang. The night mission over Palembang was reviewed, since it was the first B-29 mine-laying mission and a major part was being devoted to bombing. It was a long run over large areas of water in the tropics.
Palembang was an oil refinery center accounting for 70% to 80% of all Japan's high octane aviation gas. If I recall correctly, a frog leg complex of rivers covered or encircled Palembang. The targets were the Pladjoe Oil Refinery and the mining of the Mosei River.
The time was August 10, 1944, late afternoon and one by one they took off. The take-off carried a heavy load and they headed eastward to merge into the blue sky, bright clouds in the north direction and in an intense sunshine. In that part of the world there is no equal to the natural splendor. The long sweat began, and it lasted for 18 to 20 hours before one by one they began to return. It was in the early morning hour. We next debriefed them and heard their reports. It was a worn-out group but the results were worth the effort. The mining operation was a landmark in military history. The postwar report reveals that three tankers were sunk and the river was closed down for thirty days. Also, two ships were damaged. This was the longest mining mission of WW-II, some 4000 miles.
Another very important mine mission was the mining of the slot between Malaya and Singapore. The Japanese had a passage slot and mined each side of the slot. One of our missions mined the slot. Radar picture of the mine drops were taken by a number of aircraft. In many aircraft, an additional radar scope with a K-24 camera permitted a switch-over. As a mine was dropped, the radar scope was photographed along with a watch and an ON light spot. Later, a 35mm camera with a housing that permitted the radar operator to photograph the radarscope was used. The installations were made by the radar section troops. The Naval Mine Warfare Officer assigned to the 58th Bomb Wing was Lt. Cmdr. Kenneth L. Veth. He sat on Maj. Gen. LeMay's staff. He also flew the mine missions. In the post-war years, we had many enjoyable luncheons at Anna Maria's Restaurant in Los Angeles with then retired Rear Admiral Veth. He told me of the great impact the Palembang mining mission had on the Military Planners in Washington. All mining missions were classified "Top Secret." It all led to Project Starvation, which later on was undertaken by the 313th Bomb Wing on Northfield Tinian in 1945. As the morning began, I felt very cold amidst the tropical heat. After the aircraft returned, I ended up in a military hospital where it was determined that malaria had set in. I found a few other fellows from the other groups who preceded me by a few hours.
The treatment used was quinine pills. They hit and relieved the fever like a hammer blow, but a loss of hearing takes place. Sounds appear to come from the far distances. Every evening as a treat, two bottles of ginger beer were given. There were no women nurses.
The four or five days in the hospital went fast. My cot was on the porch and I recall the scene north and westward over to the mountains in the distance called the "Great Tea Country" where the rain came down in buckets. Going through my records, I found the medical jacket that was given to me upon return. It read "August 11, 1944, B/S temperature 104, pulse 90 R 16 and spleen palpable - B. T. Malaria. Signed E. S. Eallon S/Ldr. Medical Officer."
The return northward was by C-47. A pilot of extreme wisdom first flew us to the beautiful and mysterious city of Bangalore where we all spent the afternoon and later spent the night in the comfort of the higher altitude. It was a very pleasant experience. The next morning we took off and arrived in Salua, our rear base. Upon returning to the barracks, the squadron commander took one look at me and said, "Denny, take it easy for a few weeks," but the work continued just the same.
Planning logistics and execution of the Ceylon to Sumatra and China to Nagasaki missions was, and still is, without equal. No computer data processing was used and the word "management" was unknown in those days. We have come along way to replace the wisdom and judgment of our people.
Although the airbase was equipped to handle B-29s, only one mission was run. There was talk of missions going from Ceylon to Australia but General MacArthur would not agree, so the rumor went.
The full story of the Palembang Mission was given in the painting presentation "Shootout at Palembang, Sumatra." The painting was presented to the Admiral Nimitz Pacific War Museum in Fredericksburg, Texas.
In the book recently published by an Australian Army nurse, Pat Darling, called "Portrait of a Nurse," she was a POW in Palembang, Sumatra, during the raid. She added that the refinery was put out of operation until December 1944. In January, 1945, a British Naval task force wiped it out until the end of WW II. The editor was Don Wall, an Australian POW.
The Weather
The best way to sense the temperature is to say that when checking out the radar equipment in the aircraft on the flight line during the summer afternoon hours, the thermometer rose to 165F. During the night hours, it was 105F in the Bashas. Further, during the afternoon hours if you walked two blocks without a hat you could pass out. Remember the verse, "Mad dogs and Englishmen in the noonday sun."
Christmas 1944 At Our Home Base
Christmas Day was declared a holiday, and on Christmas night a group of Japanese bombers headed north up the Malayan Peninsula for the Calcutta area. Four aircraft attempted to attack our base at Salua. One airplane reached the target and dropped a string of bombs across the taxiway, through the parking area and across the main runway. Reports indicated that fragmentation clusters, plus an incendiary, were used. One officer and three enlisted men were injured by fragments, two bashas were destroyed; airplane #471 "Chat'nooga Choo Choo," Harold Brown's crew, was hit in the fuselage by a small bomb, but was not seriously damaged." It had a hole in it that measured one square foot.
The above from the unit history is true except that 45 B-29 aircraft were all loaded with five tons of bombs and 7,000 gallons of gasoline ready for an early morning take-off. At that moment I was about 80 ft. from aircraft #471 and "hugging" the inside of an unused antiaircraft gun emplacement. The pure "bad luck" for the attacking aircraft was the best Christmas present we received; otherwise, I would not be here today. Next morning we were able to see the effect of the six-pound anti-personnel bombs on the hard stands. One fell near our gun emplacement did no real damage. A few hundred feet across the runway a 100-pound bomb fell but turned out to be a dud.
During one of our 58th reunions, Mr. Witt brought in the fuse mechanism of the 100- pound bomb that did not explode. He had recovered it.
Visit to Calcutta
The big city near our base was 72 miles northeast. The train station was at Kharagpur. During a lull, I took a three-day pass and headed for the big city. The sights were Victoria Center, the Jain Temple, the Cremation Piers on the Houghly River and so on. For lunch it was Firpos, the hotel was the Grand. What a sight to sit in the lounge and view the human lot. It appears that in time, all of mankind passed through the hotel. My big mistake was to have some ice cream. That did it; it cleaned me out like a whistle so the next morning I returned to our base and the medics gave me a handful of pills to swallow. The second time I made the visit I was sent to a hotel apartment. The place was immaculate but this was my first experience with bed bugs.
Highlights of Events
Who can ever forget the visit of Miss Jinx Falkenberg to our forward base in China? The briefing was a moving experience for her. Gosh, she was a striking American Girl!! It was at our forward base that returning from a mission of three of our B-29s came in at 50 feet wing tip to wing tip. What a beautiful sight, but the Group Commander saw it. No more. I recall the visit of Andre Kostelanetz and Lily Pons. They arrived at Salue, India, at a time when one of our aircraft exploded and the flames covered the sky. Great Folks.
During the hot summer a package arrived in a long box. It was from my aunt. What a surprise! When I opened it I found a large salami sausage. What excitement it created! One of our members took off to the mess hall and brought back a loaf of bread. With a bottle of beer this was great eating.
Gifts Homeward Bound
Two items that could be sent home were first, a vase which was a dinner pail and second, tea from Northern India. My mother was part of a Red Cross group that sewed items. These sessions were at Mother's place. The members complimented my mother for the tea served. After the stock was used and got back to the old stock, she realized the great difference.
The Royal Air Force
During the summer months, a Royal Air Force Signal or Radar Officer of Flight Lieutenant rank was assigned to our radar section. His objective was to learn as much as possible about the AN/APQ-13 search radar system. His outfit was to have this equipment in their aircraft in the near future.
I told him that first he should get some flying experience in operating the equipment. We checked him out with the equipment in our shop. Next he flew on a test hop over the Bay of Bengal. I recall his return when carrying a parachute on his shoulder after we passed by one of our B-29s and he looked up and said "mighty big kite." To get him better acquainted, I had him go out with the radar mechanics as they maintained the equipment. After a few days on the flight line he said, "You have some sharp technicians but one or two are a little dim." He lived just outside of London, and social class did not bother him. He was a worker and a great fellow.
In February, 1945, I came down with a second case of malaria. I spent a few days in our base hospital. Still no woman nurses. The treatment was a continuous diet of atabrine. I turned yellow and even the Chinese looked at me suspiciously.
My father was a core maker in the foundry at the Ford Company. In the hospital there were four of us. One fellow, a bombardier, was from a wealthy automotive parts family. He had anemic dysentery. He was sent back to the United States.
Our Squadron Doctor
We had 13 ground officers in the 792nd Bomb Squadron. In retrospect, the war affected Dr. Thomas Maxwell the most. In Salina, Kansas, he hardly spoke to me. I was a 2nd Lt, and he was a Captain. Later, while in North Africa, we took a few hiking trips together. I got to know him better. He was very proud to have an "International Red Cross card" and not a combat soldier. While in India, I was going to our forward base periodically. Dr. Maxwell at that time ran the base hospital. There I believe that he found himself doing interesting work. He told me how shocked he was when informed that yearly 40,000 people died of malaria and typhus just in the city of Calcutta. He was also interested in visiting our forward base. And finally he was able to make it. Lt. Col. Andry, our Executive Officer, decided to throw a party celebrating the doctor's visit. The next day while flying with Captain Winkler's crew, they ran into a mountain and all of them were killed. The next day another celebration was held in memory of the doctor.
Wildlife Overseas
Since 1938, our Commanding General of the 20th Air Force, General Henry H. Arnold, was a member of the Board of Trustees of the National Geographic Society. His interest in wildlife may be read and shared in a number of articles that were written by him.
Little Joe - 792nd Bomb Squadron
At this point in our story, a few words covering our friends from nature are fitting. The Squadron Radar and Communications Victory Hut Shops were co-located some 20 feet apart near the runway. The top sergeant of the Communications Section purchases a small sized monkey, a chimpanzee, for fifty cents while on a three-day pass to Calcutta. He named the chimp "Little Joe." A SO-caliber machine gun ammunition box was modified and made his residence.
Little Joe took great delight in joining the excitement of our routine life. He could get into the "darndest" places and caused all kinds of mischief. He and I became good friends. It began this way. Occasionally I would receive from the States a box of sugar-coated dates with walnut inserts all individually wrapped in wax paper. One day he watched me unwrap one and being curious, he jumped on my shoulder and reached into the pocket of my GI jacket and took a sample for himself. Skillfully, he unraveled the wrapper and began to eat the date. He was a top gourmet in this line. Further, if you have wondered for whom the fruit bar in the Army K-ration was intended, it is sufficient to say Little Joe was at his best with that dessert.
Little Joe could, at times, exhibit human qualities such as in the case of when a tornado passed through our base. I was in the radar shop and witnessed the plywood walls vibrate. Little Joe was chained to a ten-foot cord to his residence. The effect of the tornado caused him to get hysterical and remain so. A wise sergeant brought over a large female chimpanzee and put her alongside Little Joe. As Little Joe began cutting up, she gave him a good "whack with her paw and he remained silent for days before he returned to normal. There must be some moral here ...
When news reached us of our movement to Tinian, it was decided to allow Little Joe to return to the jungle. He was taken five miles into the jungle country and released. Next morning, there was Little Joe, back at his old residence waiting for us. The troops wouldn't give up so once again they took him ten miles into the jungle and let him go. A few days later a big commotion broke out in the combat crew barracks area. All the dogs in the area had chased Little Joe up onto the roof of one of the barracks. Well, the combat crew rescued Little Joe and adopted him. In time they took him with them by B- 29 over the Hump over the Philippine Sea, and on to West Field, Tinian, our new base in May 1945.
As you may recall, our airbase was built by the Naval Construction Battalion, better known as the Tinian Seabees or the "vacuum cleaners of the Pacific." One day they vanished and Little Joe also vanished with them. What new adventures did he experience?
Sally - 794th Squadron
The first animal combat loss in the 20th Air Force was "Sally," a black cocker spaniel. She flew with the squadron Commander, Lt. Colonel Robert Clinkscales, on the aircraft "Gertrude C."
On the first daylight mission over Yawata, Japan, on August 20, 1944, "Gertrude C" was rammed by a Nick and exploded. It also took another B-29 called "Calamity Sue" with it. This was due to the flying wreckage.
Gertie and Hap's Characters-792nd Bomb Squadron
The story of Gertie, the Himalayan Sloth Bear, began this way. In the summer of 1944, while at our rear base, a native brought in three little cubs that were just a few days old. The medics fed them with an eye-dropper. One died in a few days but the remaining two survived. One was called Bambie and she was later given to a family in Kharagpur. The other was called Gertie and she was given to Capt. H. W. Hap Good the pilot of the crew called Hap's Characters.
When I came down with the second bout of malaria at our rear base, Bambi was kept in the hospital area. The dogs gave her a rough time but later, as she grew, they would not come near. Again, no women nurses.
Capt. Good nursed Gertie by pouring milk down the side of his finger. She would suck the milk from his finger. Later she was able to take milk from a pan and developed a taste for beer.
Gertie became the life of the squadron. Her antics and behavior provided much entertainment. She joined us in the transfer to West Field, Tinian. The trip went from India to Luliang, China, near Kunming, and then over the Philippine Sea on to West Field, Tinian, our new base in May 1945.
In late July, 1945, the pilot returned his war-weary aircraft, "Hap's Characters," to the States and took Gertie with him. They went first to Honolulu, Hawaii, and then on to the Fairfield-Suisun Air Base in California. Gertie was given to the San Francisco Zoo. She lived until 1965. The full story of Gertie is documented in the painting presentation called "Gertie and Hap's Characters." It hangs in the 20th Air Force Headquarters in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Radar As I Saw It or It May Save Your Life
There was much security during the war years. What I will say covers the radar equipment in the B-29s of the 58th Wing. Nearly all is applicable to the 73rd, 313th, and 314th Bomb Wings. The 315th used a different system, called the Eagle Scanner. With this antenna, the B- 29 looked like biplanes. They never joined our missions. They bombed oil refineries.
The Search Radar
The basic radar mapping set called the AN/APQ-13 was an MIT-Radiation Laboratory Western Electric effort. It operated on a wavelength of 3 cm at a frequency of 9500 MHz. The antenna, a 30-inch parabolic reflector with a fixed feed, rotated in azimuth or in the plane of the earth. Signal returns came to a PPI, or planned position indicator, which is a five-inch cathode ray tube. A person was at the center of the indicator and range to the target was measured outward. Angles were measured about the perimeter of the display. Maximum ranges were selectable. The angular bearing was read either relative to the aircraft heading, assuming no wind, or displayed with reference to magnetic north as supplied from a fluxgate compass, thus permitting azimuth stabilization.
The radar set was designed for blind bombing. The target as the reference check-point could be received and the aircraft steered to the target. As a bomb run was underway, the computer in the radar set computed a bomb release range circle which, when it coincided with the target, released the bombs.
The above approach, in the beginning, was not successful. The secret was to know how to interpret what you saw on the display. Later, at the end of the war, radar operators became very skillful. Further, the visual Norden bomb sight approach proved useless at high altitudes because you could not normally get a clear view of the target. What finally was made to work was to have the radar operator call out the range data to the target and also steer the aircraft so the bombardier could feed the data into the bombsight. As the approach to the target was reduced, the bombardier, using the Norden Bombsight Telescope, could bomb visually in the last few seconds if the view was clear. This approach was successful. Maj. Gen. Curtis LeMay brought it over from Europe.
Having said the above, let me tell you what the primary use of the radar set was. It was used to detect clouds, thunderheads, etc. in the tropics. On an 18-hour mission, the set would be set to the on position for 14 hours. It was also an aid to navigation besides flying between mountain peaks. For the most part, the dropping of mines was accomplished by radar. You could follow the channel, river, coast, harbor, or bay. It was decisive.
We had a radar set, AN/APQ-13, in the radar shack to check out component parts. Every evening before returning to the living quarters two miles away, I would scan the area up to 125 miles looking for storms coming in from over the Bay of Bengal. We would spend a few minutes tracking the direction of the storm.
We had an assistant engineering officer who was somewhat older. He was all polish, rank, and class. In India one late afternoon, he was taking a jeep to date some AngloIndian lady. He was dressed in a spic-n-span tropical worsted uniform. Before he left, I told him that a storm was headed our way. He said, "Denny, that Wegee Board is just no damn good." Anyway, he breezed off. About an hour went by and the storm hit the base with a terrific downpour. Next, we heard a jeep come up to our quarters (bashas) and there was the engineering officer soaking wet. After that experience, he would come down to our radar shop and ask for a weather report. In a way we were the first Unofficial Radar Weather Reporting station in the area.
As a passing comment, to see the radar display while flying over the Himalaya Mountains is a picture of art. It took a long time to interpret what you saw.
In cloudy weather going over to our forward base, using radar, we could see the hook in the river at lpin. Once over, the bearing and descent were set and in nine minutes, we were on the runway at A-7 Pengshan, China.
In March, 1945, the last mission our group conducted in the China Burma India Theatre was a mine drop against the Yangtze River at Shanghai from a 14th Air Force Base at Lulian 40 miles from Kunming at an altitude of 6,064 feet. On take-off, the wing bent like a bamboo stick. As the mines were set by navy mine warfare people, I wonder how in the post war years they would tell their children that they served on the mountains in China.
Returning on the last flight from Lulian to our rear base I recall setting the radar range at four miles. We then flew down the valley at low altitude. At this radar range, we flew between the mountains on each side. The pilot could be guided. As we approached too close, the mountains could be seen coming in within the radar-scope. At one point I called the pilot and told him he was heading for the mountain. He told me not to worry since he was able to see it visually.
The Radar Altimeter
The radar altimeter operated at 400 MHz as a radar set. Maximum range was 50,000 feet with the vernier of 5,000 feet intervals. The antennas were folded dipoles mounted on the wing each side of the fuselage. The radar altimeter was a very accurate device to measure absolute altitude for use with the bombsight on a bomb run. In practice, its greatest use was reading drift meter telescope angles while viewing white caps or fixed ground points. This angle data was combined with a stopwatch. The radar altimeter permitted the solution of the ground speed track of flight. We had navigators who used this technique from Calcutta to Singapore. The radar altimeter SCR-718 was the most reliable piece of electronic equipment built in World War II.
The LORAN Receive Only Navigation receiver was tuned to 1750 kHz where a network of master and slave stations operated at different pulse repetition frequencies. By measuring the time difference in the arrival of a master station and a slave station, a line of position was obtained. Repeating on another set of stations, a second line of position was obtained. Using the LORAN maps of lines of position - the intersection of the lines of position - was your position. The accuracy of the fix was dependent on the size of the crossing angle. In the China Burma India Theatre, LORAN was not used; it was used in the Marianas. We had navigators who could get within seven to fifteen miles of Tokyo by LORAN, from the Marianas.
Observing the multireturns from layers of the ionosphere was a beautiful sight.
IFF Identification Friend or Foe
Each aircraft carried an IFF set. Ground and shipboard radar sets would interrogate the IFF set in the aircraft. A coded reply would be sent back. The equipment operated in the 150 to 200 MHz region. A fish pole whip antenna was used. Various codes were available. One mode was for an emergency. In the post-war years, it was found that holes in the antenna radiation pattern caused our fighters to scramble and intercept the B-29s.
SCR-729 Airborne Interrogator
Some of the early B-29s had this equipment. This set could act similarly to a ground radar station in that it could interrogate the IFF set of other aircraft. Range and azimuth angle could be obtained. Here, both whip and two element Yagi antennas were mounted on the nose of the aircraft.
The Role of the Radar Officer
While in the United States, I had no radar technicians. As I shipped out of the country to India, my radar technicians were flown over to India. Further, there were no AN/APQ-13 radar sets available for training at the time our group was in Salina, Kansas. All the sets were going into the B-29 aircraft. Once set up in India, it was rough going. I lived out on the flight line with my radar technicians. In the beginning, six technicians comprised the section's strength, but in time we reached seventeen. To complicate the situation, I was periodically sent to the forward base in China where I had the radar and communications responsibility.
The first mission from the forward base took place June 15, 1944. It was against Yawata, Japan. In checking out the radar sets for the group, I found one aircraft in which the synchronizer was inoperative. There were no spare replacement units available. I decided to troubleshoot the unit and found that one of the blocking oscillator pulse transformers had a short on the B+ side. (Match box size was built by Utah). When I removed one plate side, the short was found to be internal between the wire going through the glass bead line to the case. The unit was cleaned up and reinsulated. The transformer was inserted into the synchronizer and after turning the radar set on, the problem was removed and operation was satisfactory.
At the forward base, the responsibility was to check the aircraft radar sets prior to the missions. At first I had no technicians but this later changed. In October, 1944, a series of missions were run against Formosa. These were run from the forward bases. They were joint Navy/Air Force missions that were very successful, all in support of the Battle of the Philippine Sea.
The Radar Section
In March, 1945, I was promoted to Captain. At that time the section had nearly 17 troops: One Master Sergeant, two technical Sergeants, and I believe three Staff Sergeants, etc.
Our Travels into the Jungle Country
The jungle country about our airbase was not to be confused with the Hollywood version. There was one area near our base that was a pleasure to visit. I recall a pond with water buffalo, and large baboons swinging and screaming among the treetops. The vegetation was sparse and the few trees were not too high. The natives lived all around this area. Throughout the base and jungle there were vultures and buzzards. They were the vacuum cleaners of India.
One day we took a jeep filled with one-gallon cans of hard sugar candy and headed into the jungle. It seems the pantry in the mess hall was filled to the ceiling with it because no one ate hard candy.
We had become friends with the priest of a small temple and local orphanage. As we approached the wooded area in our jeep, the youngsters rushed over and jumped into our jeep. They were excited and happy with laughter. We gave the priest, who wore only a half-skirt, the many gallons of candy. This was cause for genuine excitement. As sugar was scarce for these people, the hard candy also served a medical purpose. The priest graciously thanked us and the youngsters beamed with delight.
The Working Proletariat
In India, women did much of the heavy work around the airbase. One time I had a heavy load of mail for the censor. To this day I recall the paradox, or contradiction, as written by one of our troops after viewing the situation in India. He was to write, 1) "They have a good system here, for the women do all the hard work and the men just squat and talk;" and b) "the trouble with India is that the woman urinate by standing up and men by squatting."
We, too, had a bit of the myth of history. If you recall that in the 1600s when the Spanish soldiers headed from Florida to the six or seven cities west, it was for the treasure of gold. Now don't believe this! Further research shows that in one of the cities the women were born with only one breast. Rumor puts it that one of our airbase's hard working Indian women lost one of her breasts in a cement mixer. She became the mystery woman of B-1 and a search was made of this item, but I know of no one who met her or verified the bare fact.
After a spell of time, I returned to our rear base in India. At this point in time, the technicians were gaining experience. There still remained certain power supply regulator problems in the radar set but those were later corrected.
The Return to the Rear Base
One day I was watching a technician struggle in removing the screws on the waveguide that joins the antenna to the transmitter/receiver unit. It was a painstaking job using only an Allen wrench. About 45 minutes was spent. I felt there should be an easier way. I took one of the Allen wrenches and went over to the squadron welder. It turns out that he had a barrel of flexible socket wrenches for which he had no use. I asked him to remove the socket and weld in the Allen wrench. When that was accomplished, I passed it to the technician and he gave it a try. The result was dramatic. The time went to four or five minutes. A number were made and sent to the Bomber Command.
One of the "bugaboo" problems was the loosening up of the cannon connectors. There was a question as to whether the technicians were tightening down the connectors (approximately 100). To further explore this problem prior to an 18-hour mission to Singapore, I went into two B-29 aircraft and tightened the connectors. Upon return of the aircraft from the mission, I returned to the aircraft and checked the connectors. Sure enough, I found a few that had become loose by one and two turns. Following that we instructed the operators to tighten the connectors if an intermittent took place.
There was a continuous run of modifications coming. Originally the waveguide was gold-plated but later changed to another coating that grew fungus. Later, the new ones proved satisfactory. One modification called for using a flexible waveguide to bypass the elevation rotary joint on the antenna. I was given two modification kits. These were installed. On the next mission up Manchuria way, the radar mapping range of 50 nmi dropped to 1 O nmi. It was - 57° below zero outside. Upon return, the flexible waveguides were removed and inspecting internally showed the wide side surfaces were buckled. I took the two flexible waveguides to the depot. The Signal Corps Captain stated that they were not properly installed. I made no issue but did write a DR report. Late in the afternoon, the Signal Corps Captain called and said not to use any flexible waveguides as he had simulated a system and found the same problem. Later in the war, flexible waveguides came with the new systems and we had no trouble with those units. The neoprene waveguide jacket was changed. As a result of the extreme cold, the antenna drive parts were greased prior to each mission.
We were given a test set to measure the average transmitter power. This proved misleading for it could give a good reading, but due to multi-moding of the magnetron transmitter, the power in the desired frequency would be reduced. I had one of our technicians run a power spectrum of each transmitter. A number of magnetrons were replaced. This became a full-time job in the shop.
In time, the radar technicians became quite proficient in their work. I had four technicians assigned per four aircraft. We started with seven aircraft per squadron and had seventeen when the war ended. After six months in India, it was very rare that I was called to help solve a problem, although one did occur; the lubber line of the scope that was chopped up. The lubber line results when the antenna points dead ahead and operates a microswitch. The problem was an open capacitor in the synchronizer. To this day, I recall getting into the radar compartment where it must have been near 160°F.
In India our shop was a Victory Shop, a plywood unit 15 feet x 15 feet. We had a radar set in a radome. In Tinian, the shop was in a large tent. Plenty of bomb boxes were available for flooring, benches, etc. Further, a photo darkroom shack was built near the radar shop.
In India, I would periodically be sent to the forward base at Pengshan, China, or over to the 14th Air Force Base in Lulian, China. One day I visited the forward Headquarters base at Hsinching where I met Major Hank Greenberg. He was stationed at this base.
Military Discipline on the Flight Line
The oldest radar technician in my section was a very quiet fellow from Brooklyn. One day he and his crew were working on an antenna on one of our aircraft. The aircraft system power was turned off because the airplane mechanics were doing their jobs. My sergeant looked towards the front end of the aircraft and observed a newly arrived pilot of major rank standing alongside the engine propeller smoking a cigar. Meanwhile, the airplane mechanic was on the wing washing down the engine area with gasoline. My sergeant took off and ordered him away and "chewed out" the major to high heaven. The news got around the squadron. The engineering officer came down to say that the sergeant gave the major a good chewing out but then he had a twinkle in his eye with a hidden smile. The next day another sign went up saying "No Smoking" by the aircraft. This was the day of the sergeant. In time I promoted him to Staff Sergeant.
A few years ago I asked our then squadron commander, Lt. Col. Edmundson, if he recalled the incident. He said "Yes" and that proper action was taken.
Once on Tinian in the Marianas, I did no flying. I lived out on the flight line. The operation became a going machine. On Tinian it was a pleasant experience for nature was not on our backs.
In India, I flew nine trips to our A-7 base and one to Luliang, a 14th Air Force Base. I flew in the B-29, C-87, C-47, and C-46 aircraft and I also flew a number of test flights over the Bay of Bengal. Another flight was to Trincomatee, Ceylon. One local flight was in a B-25.
Dining in the China Burma India Theatre and Tinian in the Marianas
In India, the food situation was all field rations, powdered milk and eggs, and canned this and canned that. Thanksgiving Dinner was turkey out of a jar. In a visit to Calcutta, one could get chicken chow mein and some American food.
In China, if you could eat 24 fresh eggs you would be served. A large supply of pork was also available; the coffee the Chinese cooks prepared tasted like a mixture of tea and coffee and it was horrible. After service in India, Tinian was considered gourmet dining. Most of the food came from Australia and was a welcome change.
The above is how we of the 58th viewed the food situation. In the post war year 1974, I visited Mr. Sy Bartlett regarding the 315th Bomb Wing Aircraft painting of the Fleet Admiral Nimitz aircraft. Mr. Bartlett was an intelligence officer in the 315th and also a good friend of the Wing 28 Commander Frank A. Armstrong. In civilian life, he was a producer of motion pictures and was associated with Mr. Bob Hope and others. After the war, he produced "12 O'clock High" based on an 8th Air Force unit stationed in Europe. He was interested in contributing to the Nimitz painting. I told him it was too late for the project was finished. He asked for a print as he was in Europe for nine months and only just returned. He gave me his address on Cole Street in West Hollywood and wanted me to drop off the print. As my address was some three or four miles east, I managed to arrive in a short time. Entering by way of the kitchen, I gave him a print of the "Fleet Admiral Nimitz" painting of which he was well pleased. As I sat down, I was shocked to see a revolver on the kitchen table. He was in a talkative state. What followed next was how deplorable the food situation on their airbase at Northwest Field, Guam. He made much of this shortcoming. I listened in disbelief. It appeared that his 8th AF Europe Service had gourmet dining.
Another topic was that he was writing a book covering 20th Air Force operations and that the political consequences would be explosive. As the intelligence officer, he had made a name for himself in setting up the dark room briefing system including simulation of the AN/APQ-7 Eagle Scanner Radar System.
The 58th Bomb Wing of which I was a part was the first wing. The 315th Bomb Wing began operations as the last 20th Air Force Wing in June, 1945. In the initial planning, the 58th move from India was to be to Northwest Field, Guam, but was later changed to West Field, Tinian.
The Liquor Ration
Being an officer I was entitled to a bottle of liquor once a month. As I did not drink, I gave the ration to my Master Sergeant and told him to have a section party. I added, "Make sure no one gets drunk." He looked at me in amazement and said, "I guarantee that no one will get drunk."
In China at our forward base, liquor was taboo but on Tinian it was more accessible. In India, the local liquor company was Carew's Booze. That was powerful stuff and too much resulted in "Carew's blindness." The beer ration was a good substitute for drinking water. As little ice was available, a warm drink was had. Being on the end of the supply line, the least known brands were received. The British rationed liquor to their enlisted men. We should have done the same. The drinking of "buzz bomb juice," "torpedo juice," or gasoline contained liquor did not make for a healthy being.
From the China Burma India Theatre to the Marianas or Wait Until the 58th Gets Here
Rumors began to fly in January, 1945, that we were due for another move, this time to Tinian Island in the Marianas. Sometime in February, one half of our ground force was packed away and shipped. Their job was to make the new base ready for the air squadrons that were to arrive later.
The remaining half of the group kept things going for the missions even though at half strength. At that time, the forward China bases were closed down. Most of the missions were run for Admiral Lord Mountbatten's Southeast Asia Command. The work got done. Also about this time, some of our pilots and crews were transferred on temporary duty to the 313th Bomb Wing on North Field, Tinian. They were to be our new neighbors. Some 16 aircraft from the 58th were sent.
As April came, we began to pack the remaining half. The excitement was building. The air crew and aircraft were being put into order. On May 4, the last morning report was filed in the China Burma India Theatre. For the aircrew, the flight went first across the Hump into Luliang, China, and then over the Philippine Sea on to West Field, Tinian. The first mission from the Marianas by the 58th Wing, with 88 aircraft participating, took place May 10. In a few days the numbers rose to full strength of approximately 180 to 200.
The Rumor in the China Burma India Theatre
In February, 1945, the 58th blew up the floating drydock at Singapore. The British said we owed them seven million dollars. That was later verified.
Actually what happened as Col. Edmundson told me it, Adm. Mountbatten, Southeast Asia Commander, when he visited our base, said he caught hell from the Crown for sinking the floating dry dock. He felt that we could never hit the dock. Later he said, "I was sure proud of you." Our Chief of Naval Operations, Adm. Ernest J. King, said, "Well done."
Prior to leaving for the Marianas, I gave a briefing to our pilots covering the subject of GCA, which means ground control approach. In this system, the ground radar operator talks the pilot through the landing approach. At all times, he has azimuth and elevation angles, plus the range to the aircraft. Upon completion, I asked one of our pilots what he thought. His reply was that he would like to make a number of passes under the hood. In the first mission from Tinian, one of our pilots was talked down into Iwo Jima. The code name for a GCA request was Bojangles.
One evening during the 1993 Reunion in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Mr. Raymond Tolzmann and I were reminiscing when Jack Geringer joined us. It turned out that he was the pilot who landed on Iwo Jima on the first mission out of Tinian. He remembered my briefing but had paid no attention. Iwo Jima was socked in.
While the aircrew were on the go, we loaded a new troop transport sent special from Oakland, California, just for us. This was her maiden voyage. She was called the USS General Leroy Eltinge. As the war in Europe ended, we sat in the Houghly River in Calcutta waiting for the tide to come in. After two days, we headed down the Bay of Bengal for the refueling Naval Port at Trincomalee, Ceylon, and then for three days in Perth, Fremantle, Australia, around Australia north to Manus in the Admiralties for a day and finally debarked at Tinian. A total of 32 days was spent on the trip.
Our mechanics and cooks joined in to help the ship's crew. Three meals a day were served. This was indeed a contrast and was so pleasant.
The B-29 personnel took over control and running of the passenger aspect of the ship. We had some fellows heading for the States after a number of years in the China Burma India Theatre. They were part of the Mars Task Force and Merrill's Marauders. Many were weak and sick so they deserved the rest.
At night, the top deck was covered with Gls all over the place. The discipline and conduct were excellent. In a way, this had the making of a pleasure cruise. We were permitted to visit Perth and Fremantle and enjoyed what we saw. As expected, I caught Officer of the Day for the first day. The Australians were hospitable. EMU Sitter's Ale had the best taste -12% alcohol. The taverns closed at 6:00 p.m. Women were not permitted in the same tavern.
As we were ready to leave the Port of Fremantle, the picture of the Australian Military Band playing our National Anthem made a lasting impression. I was assigned compartment commander of 300 to 400 colored troops, some from our Army Ordnance Unit, and if I recall correctly, others were from the Burma Units. We were tops and they were a great bunch of fellows. We always passed inspection A 1.
During the last months of the War, General Marshall had a strong general go through the military bases and uproot for overseas service those who had not had a tour. The USS General Leroy Eltinge on her maiden voyage had just such a complement aboard. The trip to India was a difficult one. Only two meals a day were served. There were a number of human problems. When I was appointed compartment commander, I went down into the hold of the ship and spoke to the colored troops. I stated that there would be a daily inspection by the ship's captain, etc. At this point, a Master Sergeant looked at me and said, "Captain, you have nothing to worry about for I will take care of my cats." In parting I asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?" One big husky fellow got up and said he would like some cigarettes. I next visited the Major in charge of transportation and asked if he had any cigarettes to give away. He welcomed me with open arms and said, "Listen, we had so much trouble coming over that the Red Cross stock was not dispersed." They were passed out to our troops. This made a very favorable impression and I became a hero.
No storms, no scares, the beauty of the huge graceful albatross soaring over the Great Australian Bight was another work by His Hand.
On June 3, we were at Tinian. There are times when the word given by your fellow associates in arms stands as a tribute not only to the receiver but also to the giver. That day, the words spoken over the public address system by the Naval Captain was one of those cases. Whoever he was, there can be no doubt that he was a true man of the sea and it is on such men that the heritage of the service is built.
Once on Tinian, we joined in. We did not feel Nature at our backs. The work went on. We were now in the XXIst Bomber Command. Five B-29 Wings were operational. Today when I think of the massive planning and staffing, I am reminded of the words of General Marshall when at the outset of the war he was asked where all the manpower would come to man the ships, tanks, aircraft, etc. He replied, "The young will come from the towns, villages, cities ... "
Wait Til the 58th Gets Here
It is only years later that stories of Wing rivalry are told. Before the 58th left India, the Wings in the Marianas were having a difficult time knocking out a specific target. In frustration, the Commanding General of the XXlst Bomber Command, Maj. Gen. Curtis E. LeMay, said "wait 'til the 58th gets here," to the three Wing Commanders. This caused some raised eyebrows. On the first two missions out of Tinian the 58th did come through.
There are moments of tragedy that remain with one a lifetime. One night while on Tinian just before takeoff, I talked to Sgt. Copeland. He was well known and liked by my radar technicians. This was his last mission. The aircraft pilot was Squadron Commander Lt. Col. Theodore Watson. Upon takeoff, the aircraft went down into the ocean with only the copilot escaping.
The Whistling Bullet
It was morning and our aircraft had returned from a night mission over Japan. Upon return of the aircraft, I and two technicians were getting a status report on the operation of the radar sets in each returned aircraft. While going from one aircraft to another with a technician on my right and one on the left, I felt a breeze of a 50 caliber projectile pass over my head. I dropped to the ground but was picked up by my technicians. What had happened was that a tail gun in a nearby B-29 aircraft had a projectile in the chamber unbeknownst to the armament maintenance technician. That was a close call!
The Big Wager
While on Tinian, one of our Group Commanders, Col. Alfred Kalberer (462nd), wagered his Operation Officer Maj. Thomas Vaucher $500 the war would be over by November, 1945. In 1975, during our 58th reunion in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, they met for the first time since the end of WWII. Vaucher said it was a good bet to lose. The Colonel made a fortune wagering with Navy people and their Golden Gate in 48.
The Final Curtain Rises
On June 15, 1945, on West Field, Tinian, after spending a good part of the night hours on the flight line with half of my radar technicians, then watching our aircraft take off and head northward, I returned to the mess hall to have a cup of GI coffee. After a slow drink, I headed to the tent that was home for sleep. It must have been what appeared to be only a fleeting moment of time when I was awakened by the group's first sergeant and told that I was to assemble all of the troops from our group and march them down to the flight line. I asked, "What happened to all of the Majors and Lt. Cols.?" He replied, like an old army sage with 27 years' service, "Sir, I cannot find a one of them!" You must realize that Tinian is ten miles long and four miles wide at one point. There was to be no formality - take them as you find them - fatigues, etc. As the sun became bright, I was out and ahead of our sleepy-eyed; aircrew members, mechanics, technicians, orderly room clerks, medics, etc. and marched them over to the flight line. We were a motley-looking outfit. This all struck us as somewhat strange that in the Overseas Zone such activity was planned, but then one followed and did his best.
We marched into No. 3 position, if my memory serves me right, along with the other three groups of the 58th Wing. No one appeared to know what this was all about.
I was in front of my fellows and along with the others we waited. Shortly someone yelled, "Attention!" We all "hopped to." From the distance came a jeep and stopped about 10 to 20 feet in front of us. I immediately recognized that it was General of the Army, Henry H. Arnold. He sat in the right front seat. As I looked at him, I knew that Father Time had exacted his price. Further, I knew that I was looking at a man who was part of the history of aviation. The driver was Brigadier General Roger Ramey, our Wing Commander. In the rear seat was Deputy Col. Alva L. Harvey.
As he departed from the jeep, I could see and almost feel the grin coming at us that outshone the sparkle of the ring of stars on his collar. As he walked slowly to the platform, one could observe the square, infantry-made shoulders, but the head did droop some. He reached the platform and ordered us "at ease."
I have often wondered what was on his mind at that moment. Was it the pain of his recent heart attack? Was it that he was reflecting on his own young life in World War I, how sickness deprived him of overseas air combat service? Or was it that his youthful spirit was trying to burst out from his body and join us, but could not break the bonds of age.
He began by saying that he wanted to see us and talk to us. He said some kind words of thanks and appreciation for our effort. He next spoke of the ending of the war without an invasion This view, he said, was held by two groups in Washington. He said he was not sure, but hoped they were right. One year had passed since the first Yawata Mission. There was much more, but as I reflect through the passage of time, these words come to light.
- The War was taking its toll,
- The Old Man was giving the last ounce of his devotion.
- The big Push was on.
- When it was all over,
- His young troops who came through
- would say of their Old Man from West Point.
- This was his Finest Hour.
During General Arnold's visit to the Marianas, he asked the question, "When will the war end"? The Navy folks talked of "Golden Gate in 48" and others said up near 1951. When the question was asked of Maj. Gen. LeMay, he replied, "Wait for another hour or so." Upon return he said early November, 1945. His position was based upon the time it would take to complete the missions drawn up by the Joint Target Group in Washington which it was believed would end the war.
Sometime in July, the 8th Air Force was beginning to arrive on Okinawa. It must have been one of Lt. Gen. James Doolittle's public relations people who released a message that read, "Now that the 8th is here we will end this war." This went over like a lead balloon in the 20th Air Force and the Army, Navy, and Marine Forces in the Marianas. General MacArthur flew the coop. Anyway, the 8th Air Force had two B-29 groups of the 316th Bomb Wing ready for combat but the war ended.
A definite personnel change in the group began to take place in the month of July, 1945. Many of the fellows who were in the group in November and December 1943 completed their 35 missions and returned to the United States. The replacements were new crews flown from the West Coast to Tinian. Upon arrival, their aircraft was taken away and they had to spend a month or so in training for combat. This made them very unhappy. Next, a number of crews were uprooted from the training command and sent overseas if they had no prior overseas service. The day of the "hot shot" was over. General LeMay laid down the order. In the long run it saved many lives. In time, humility would return to those who thought they knew it all.
The Coming of the 509th Composite Bomb Group
In July a strange group came to Northfield, Tinian. One of their fellows wrote a verse that said, "The 509th will end the war." This they did with their atomic bombs.
The Invasion
While on the flight line during July, 1945, on West Field, Tinian, I recall a visit by the Ordnance Officer. He told me that the bomb shackles were being modified to carry 50- gallon drums filled with napalm. These were to be dropped by B-29s on the beaches. The south end of Tinian sloped upward and some 128 Quonset huts being assembled to form a Field Hospital for the upcoming invasion. There were a few Army and Navy nurses on Tinian but I never saw any. As the war ended, 750 nurses arrived. Again, as I was on Saipan, I never saw any.
The End of Combat
At this point, I will tell you what I did when the War ended. We had a number off false alarms. It was a very quiet day. I took my camera out to the flight line and photographed the glorious 792nd Bomb Squadron. When the war ended, there was no celebration by firing weapons at our base. The man in command was a responsible one. A few days before the end, we had to turn in our personal weapons, such as the 45s, the submachine guns and carbines. We lost no troops but quite a number were lost on Okinawa. Again, it was a quiet day on West Field, Tinian.
My brother, Myron, was a B-29 navigator who was headed for the Pacific, but was terminated as the war ended.
The Rumor in the Marianas-The Last Days
As our Navy had demolished the Japanese Navy, our carrier aircraft would buzz our B- 29s heading toward Japan. Some were close calls that frightened the crew. One pilot from the 314th decided on his return to make a carrier landing. He spotted a carrier and buzzed in close, causing all kinds of commotion. In the post-war years while I was at the Hughes Aircraft Company, I met Ken Snap, the radar operator on that flight.
The Final Roll Call
A few days after the war ended, the entire 58th Bomb Wing was marched over to the airfield. We all wore khaki Class-A uniforms. This was the first time that Wing Commander Ramey had the Wing together.
Our outfit was in the far rear and as such we heard very little as to what went on. At the outset it was a beautiful sky-blue day but halfway through the ceremony a wind-driven rainstorm hit us. One half of our uniforms were shockingly wet whereas the other half was dry.
The Return to the United States
On September 9, 1945, I was sent to Saipan where on October 2 we embarked on the USS Maj. Gen. Neville and sailed for Camp McDowell, Angel Island, California, arriving on October 18. Passage under the Golden Gate Bridge was in a fog. In 21 months, I had been on four ships and had just about circled this globe of ours. Between the time of the V-J Day celebrations and the time we arrived in the United States, it seemed that twenty years had elapsed.
The Post War
Since September, 1945, the world in which we live has changed. It has been turned upside down and around many times over. It seems that some form of savage culture has taken over. It is like Pasternak was to write in Dr. Zhivago -"We are told that good is bad, bad is good, to love what you hate, hate what you love, and, so on and on."
I would like to believe that in our time we have come to see greatness. We produced a President, President Harry S. Truman, of no equal in our century. Further, an Army Chief of Staff, General George C. Marshall, who someday will stand second to Abraham Lincoln.
At times we are apt to ponder the thought of our country, our people, our land, our service, but here I think of what Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes was to say to a gathering of the Grand Army of the Republic in May 10, 1884 in Keene, New Hampshire:
For, stripped of the temporary associations which gave rise to it, it is now the moment when by comment consent we pause to become conscious of our national life and to rejoice in it, to recall what our country has done for each of us, and to ask ourselves what we can do for our country in return."
For we who were young and looking to the mystery of the future, Holmes continued with ...
But, nevertheless, the generation that carried on the war has been set apart by its experience. Through our great good fortune, in our youth our hearts were touched with fire. It was given to us to learn at the outset that life is a profound and passionate thing. While we are permitted to scorn nothing but indifference and do not pretend to undervalue the worldly rewards of ambition, we have seen with our own eyes beyond and above the gold fields, the snowy heights of honor, and it is for us to bear the report to those who come after us. But above all we have learned that whether a man accepts from Fortune her spade and will look downward and dig, or from Aspiration her axe and cord and will scale the ice, the one and only success that is at his command is to bring to his work a mighty heart.
The Passing of the 468th Bomb Group
In October, 1945, the 468th Bomb Group returned to Roswell, New Mexico, once again a part of the 58th Bomb Wing. The 58th absorbed the 509th Composite Bomb Group. The last missions of the 58th were the Bikini Atoll Bomb Tests called "Operation Crossroads" and were conducted in the Pacific.
In October, 1946, the 468th Bomb Group was disbanded at Roswell. From September, 1943 to October, 1946, we covered the globe.
- Denny D. Pidhayny
- July 2000
Photo gallery
Maps of Circling the Globe
Norfolk, Virginia to Bombay, India via Oran, Algeria
Norfolk, Virginia to Bombay, India via Oran, Algeria, the Suez Canal, the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea
Bombay, India to the Rear Base at Kharagpur via train.
Supply missions from the Rear Base at Kharagpur to Jorhat.
Supply missions from the Rear Base at Kharagpur to the Forward Base at Chengdu.
Supply missions from the Rear Base at Kharagpur to Trincomalee, Ceylon.
February 1945, Half the unit deploys to Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas.
April-May 1945, Denny gets the slow boat to Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas via Trincomalee, Ceylon, Perth, Western Australia and Manus Island.
April-May 1945, Denny gets the slow boat to Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas via Trincomalee, Ceylon, Perth, Western Australia and Manus Island.
April-May 1945, Denny gets the slow boat to Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas via Trincomalee, Ceylon, Perth, Western Australia and Manus Island.
Denny arriving at Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas.
Denny transfers to Saipan after the war prior to the sail home.
Denny sails from Saipan to San Francisco after the war.
