A True Story of a Naval Aircraft Carrier Pilot[1]
By Jackson D. Arnold, ADM USN, RET
The pilots of Torpedo Plane Squadron TWO had been
working hard, training for combat over the waters of Narangansett Bay at
Quonset Point, polishing their techniques in the many intricacies of modern
war-- glide bombing, strafing, mine laying and the most important phase of
their work, dropping a torpedo, and not just dropping it like a bomb, but
laying it straight and true, holding the point of release until the plane is so
close the enemy tracer bullets are combing the cockpit, and then finally,
releasing it so that its wake would cut an intercept course with the enemy
ship.
The day for the Squadron’s departure for the
South Pacific combat was only forty-eight hours away. Each pilot knew that one
from this group would not make the trip. There was one too many assigned to the
squadron-The Navy’s way to make sure each man would prove his mettle. Equally
important, this provided a spirit of competition, so important in the
development of a championship team. The stakes in war are high, and it is
better by far to lose a pilot in preliminary competition, during training, than
to have that man fail in combat. There, the price may not only be the pilot’s
life, but those of his two aircrewmen, the gunner and radioman.
It was after just such a day of practice,
dropping torpedoes under the most realistic of settings: a dusk attack on a maneuvering
vessel in Narangansett Bay, that a tall, prematurely—graying, shaggy—haired
pilot “Soupy” Campbell by name, found himself standing before the desk of the
Squadron Commander. “Soupy’s” face was set in determination, but the look in
his blue eyes was one of plea rather than chagrin as he addressed his
commanding officer.
“Skipper”, he said. “I know that you’re going
to leave one of us behind tomorrow, and I also know that I’m probably the worst
‘torpedo dropper’ in the outfit. I just couldn’t make that “fish” run straight
and true. I kept imagining that the target ship was firing back at me, and I
couldn’t bring myself to take that torpedo in close enough to get a hit. The
skipper eyed the pilot standing before him, and as “Soupy” continued to pour
out his feelings, the officer charged with leading these men in combat did some
thinking. He knew that the pilot standing before him lacked some necessary
skills. He had studied the background of each pilot assigned to him and was
aware of what was going on in this man’s head.
At the Squadron’s farewell party several nights
earlier, the skipper danced with the pilot’s sister and she had said: “You
know, ‘Soupy’ is in love with his work. He’s an artist at heart, but I’ve never
seen him so enthusiastic about anything before. Is he a good pilot?” Before the
skipper could answer, she continued “Mother and Jean----, you’ve met her of
course? She and ‘Soupy’ are engaged.—We’re all so happy, because ‘Soup’ has
been waiting to get into combat for the past three years, but somehow he just
couldn’t get out of that job in (U.S Navy) Primary Instruction School.” He remembered. Jean had said the same
thing. The words echoed in the Squadron Commander’s ears: “I guess ‘Soupy’ will
never be happy until he has put a torpedo into a Jap ship, and I’ve told him to
go on and drop his darned old torpedo and come back so that we can be married.”
And now the Skipper’s stare focused again on
the man in front of his desk. “Soupy” continued, “I know I’m not the best pilot
in the squadron, but if you’ll just le me go, I’ll try twice as hard as any
other fellow, and when the chips are down, I’ll
come through, I promise!”
It would have taken more than the four years’
discipline of the United States Naval Academy, more than the nine years of
Fleet experience on board ARIZONA, SAVANNAH, and ENTERPRISE, to enable the
young squadron commander to refuse this pilot’s request to fly against the
enemy. He knew that an aggressive, determined man was the best he could want in
a torpedo plane pilot. As the Skipper arose from his chair, he placed his hand
on the pilot’s shoulder, he said “Okay, Soupy, it’s a deal. Now we both have a special purpose in our fight
against the enemy… You’re going out to prove to yourself when the chips are
down, you can come through, whether it’s in action against the enemy, or in the
pursuit of happiness in the life following this war. I’ll try and stick close
to you, just in case you need me.”
He continued “As for me and my special purpose,
you probably know that on December 7, 1941 I was at Pearl Harbor. With no plane
to fly, I fought with a Browning automatic rifle, a Helluva’ place for a pilot
to be! But I watched those Nip sons of b’s put their fish into my old home, the
ARIZONA! Before the day was over, I had a letter in the mail to the Navy
Department requesting command of a torpedo squadron. I had a score to settle,
and I was determined that the Japs would one day regret that they had ever
waylaid the Gallant Lady, the old ARIZON!A It may strange to you that the
carrier pilot would ever carry the torch for a battle wagon, but she was my
first sea-going home, and you’ll learn that in this man’s Navy, your first love
will be the ship from whose decks you first fly. Now, let’s get packed! We
leave for the West Coast and Honolulu in the morning.”
During the days the squadron waited in Honolulu
for assignment to their first carrier, the Skipper saw to it that more
torpedoes were dropped; there could be no slacking off; each pilot must be
trained to a fine edge. “Soupy” spent those days trying over and over again to
perfect his technique.
Finally, the day arrived. The squadron’s new
home was to be a new carrier, the HORNET (CV12). The new HORNET had quite a
tradition to maintain. The old HORNET had been the carrier from which General
Doolittle’s raiders had hit Tokyo. She was later lost in a gallant fight at the
Battle of Santa Cruz. She was to be home, and would look to her air group for
protection while the fight was being carried to the enemy from her decks.
In the months that followed, the Air Group
first hit Palau, the deepest penetration into Jap territory at that time. In
rapid succession, attacks were mounted on Woleai, Wakde, Sawar, Sarmi, and
Hollandia in New Guinea; Truck and Ponape were raided. Then one day the
squadron was briefed on the Marians Invasion; landing on Saipan, Tinian and
Guam were to be theirs to support.
Preliminary photo reconnaissance had to be
accomplished before the invasion took place, and “Soupy” volunteered for this
most special and dangerous of missions. During the many “softening up” attacks
in the days which followed, “Soupy” could be seen over the target almost any
time of day. It was easy to spot him, one had but to look up for the anti-craft
fire dotting the air, there just
one jump ahead of the last AA burst was “Soupy.” If one looked closely, there
was always another plane, a Hellcat, which could be seen hovering over
“Soupy’s” Avenger, a watchful eye to see that no Jap fighter interfered with
the photographic procedure.
Somehow, as he looked over his shoulder,
“Soupy” knew that as long as the “Skipper” sat up there on his tail, he was
safe. On at least two occasions, the “Old Man” had shot down Jap fighters as
they attempted to make a run on his photo plane.
As the air group landed on the carrier and the
pilots proceeded to their Ready Room, the Skipper called “Soupy”, the artist
turned pilot, aside and presented his idea for a large plaque on which it was
proposed to inscribe the achievements of the air group. It was to be placed in
the ship’s wardroom as a goal for future air groups to meet or exceed. There
was another, quieter side to “Soupy.” After each flight, “Soupy” the artist
worked on the plaque the Skipper wanted. Finally on a day in August, it was
complete. Each pilot in the air group was proud to see their efforts inscribed
on the large brass replica of a Naval aviator’s wings. As the air group took to
the skies that morning for a strike at the Japanese island of Chichi Jima, it
was with a feeling of pride and admiration for “Soupy’s” work.
The air group, with the Torpedo Squadron
leading found their way through the heavy weather which usually prevailed in
the area of Bonin Island Group, and they could begin to make out the rugged
outline of Chichi Jima.
As the Air Group Commander dived his Hellcat
through the overcast for a “looksee” at Furami Ko, the Jap’s harbor, all ears
were glued to the headphones for the command: “Attack” But a look of
disappointment came over each pilot’s face as the message came through “They’ve
skipped the coop, boys, --no ships--, head towards Tokyo; we’ll track that
convoy down!”
Probably the happiest man in the air at that
moment was “Soupy” Campbell. He had lugged his torpedo several hundred miles,
and he was happy at the thought of finding a nice, fat Jap cargo ship loaded
down with those sons of Nippon.
As the flight of American carrier aircraft
headed northwest towards Tokyo, the Air Group Commander’s voice came in loud
and clear; “There they are boys, prepare for attack!” Looking like tiny,
miniature models, the convoy could be seen below the scattered clouds. There
were six big cargo ships and three large oilers, with five Jap destroyers of
the Terutsuki class deployed
around the circumference to protect the cargo vessels.
As the Hellcats dived to spray the antiaircraft
gunners on each ship, the torpedo planes swung wide to commence their attack.
“Soupy” picked out a large oil tanker as his victim, checked all switches, and
over the mike, checked with his turret and tunnel gunners: “Everything
O.K, “Ski”” “All set sir” came
from the turret gunner. “How about you, Sparks?” “Ready”, cracked the answer
from the tunnel.
“Soupy” leveled the Avenger, steadying her for
the last thousand yards of approach. Now the tracers from a destroyer were
combing the cockpit. His lips were a little dry, and a lump seemed to fill his
throat. Would he be able to hold straight and true through the hail of ack-ack
until he could reach the release point? The tanker loomed large in his sight.
His finger pressed the release. But even has he mentally congratulated himself,
the voice of the tunnel gunner came through; “Sir, we’ve been hit in the bomb
bay; the electrical system is out; the torpedo is still aboard.”
“Soupy” banked the Avenger in a sharp turn. He
must go back. He couldn’t carry that “fish” all the way back home. Now, he saw
another large cargo vessel and started for her, but there was the Terutsuki, guns blazing away. A
blinding flash, and now the cockpit was full of smoke. He knew he could never
reach the cargo vessel, and without hesitation, he pointed the Avenger’s nose
at the Jap destroyer, pulled the emergency torpedo release… and then he was
passing over the destroyer. More tracers combed and entered the cockpit of the
burning plane.
Though wounded, “Souper” ditched the Avenger,
landing her on the water as safely and as smoothly as if he had put her down on
the field at Quonset Point. Simultaneously, his torpedo struck the Jap
destroyer, breaking her in two and sending flames high into the sky.
The spray from the water landing had not
settled before the gunner and radioman were out of the burning plane and
scrambling to assist their pilot. As “Ski” and “Sparks” told their story after
being picked up by a destroyer and returning to the HORNET; “Skipper”, they
said, “we jumped up on the side of Lieutenant Campbell’s cockpit to help him
out, but his body was bent forward, and as I raised his head, I knew he was
dead, but you know, ‘Skipper” I could swear he had a smile on his face.”
Authors
Note: There is a plaque in the form of a large pair of Navy Wings hanging in
the wardroom of a Carrier in the Pacific. Inscribed on it is a record of 267
Jap planes shot down and of 49 Jap ships sunk. On a small brass plate below the
wings is the inscription:
“This plaque was designed by
Lieutenant “Soupy” Campbell, USNR. It was completed on Auguest 3, 1944. On
August 4, 1944, during an attack on a Jap convoy, he gave his life. Greater
love hath no man.”
Editors Note: This true story was written by Jackson D. Arnold, CDR USN in 1944. LTjg Kenneth Glass was “Soups” roommate aboard
[1]
This
watercolor was painted by Jack Arnold when he returned from the mission. As a matter of interest, when it was
pointed out the destroyer was much less true to life than Soups’ Avenger, he
responded, “Who cares, it was about to sink anyway.”
