First Battle of the Philippine Sea

 

At about 1600, all Task Group Commanders were directed to launch the first deckload. At this point, I was spotted on deck in the number one position and looked towards Primary Flight Control for the blackboard notation which would give us the last range and bearing towards the enemy. 

 

In place of range, a latitude and longitude were posted. As all pilots made the plot and measured the distance, they realized that with the  speed of advance estimated for the enemy we would be pursuing them beyond the range of our aircraft and so far as our capability to return tour ships. 

 

We were under radio silence, but one could hear the microphone buttons click as various of  the pilots apparently picked up the mikes to voice their surprise or objections—but not a single voice was heard. With the signal to launch aircraft, we looked at one another, gave a thumbs-up signal, and shoved off headed west. I throttled back immediately on takeoff, and gave the signal for a running rendezvous in order to conserve gas. With a slow climb, we headed due west and the Air Group was completely rendezvoused within about 30 minutes. After reaching about 10,000 feet we leveled off, leaned our mixture out, and I proceeded to move ahead with several fighters to scout out the situation.

 

The flight to the target was probably unparalleled in the history of naval aviation. Each pilot knew that the target was beyond the combat radius of our planes. I had decided that if the enemy fleet finally was discovered even further west than originally plotted, it would be best to pursue and attack, retire as far as possible before darkness set in, notify ship by key, and then have all planes in the group land in the water in the same vicinity so that rafts could be lashed together and mutual rescues could be effected. When the target was found at about 300 miles it was decided that the best gamble was to have the pilots in groups attempt to return to the ship in hopes of saving some few planes.

 

The approach towards the target was made with the Yorktown group in company. Transmissions from each of the Group Commanders from the other task groups could be heard approaching the target. It was apparent, as we neared the target, that the Japanese Fleet was divided into three groups. By listening to transmissions from the other group commanders, I determined that they were going to attack the southern group (3 AO, 3 GA, DD) and the western group (5 BB,2  CV[Hitaka  Class], 2  CVE [Ryuho  Class],  several CA and about 4 DD).

 

My primary concern was to avoid overlooking the third enemy group of ships, so that no group would get away undamaged. This had happened in the battle of the Coral Sea to old Air Group Two. 

 

As our Air Group approached the Japanese Fleet Units, our presence was acknowledged by an increasing array of antiaircraft bursts, some white, some pink, but increasing to the point where it appeared the planes were almost floating on small white and pink clouds. The carriers and cruisers began to maneuver circles and S turns making patterns in the sea be-

low, while to the west the sun was setting.

 

By scouting ahead of our approaching group I had an opportunity to see all three groups, and immediately ordered the attack on the northern group consisting of 1 CV (Zuikaku Class), about 10 CA and CL, and about 14-16 DD. Since no fighter opposition was in evidence our fighter-bombers were first to attack. The bombers were all ordered on the large CV as were the torpedo planes (VT).

 

It was a little disappointing that some VT had been loaded with 4-500# G.P. as all hands in the VT squadrons had been looking forward  to the day they could put a fish in the Zuikaku or Shokaku. It is believed a better loading would have been fish for all VT planes. 

 

The torpedo planes with bombs could not go in with the bombers because of steepness of the dive angle and so had to follow them. Since our primary mission was to knock out the enemy carriers, it would appear that torpedoes would have been more appropriate. Glide bombing a maneuvering ship is extremely difficult.The attack executed by the bombing squadron was superb. 

Of the first six planes to dive, I observed one carrier hit in the center of the deck forward of the island structure and five near misses so close the splash could not be observed. The second division of nine planes came down so fast it was al-most impossible to count the hits. I counted to seven and saw no splashes, so estimated the other two were either hits or very near misses.

 

Upon completion of the attack, and as darkness was setting in, I gave the rendezvous signal and proceeded on a dead reckoning course to attempt to intercept our carriers.  My radio transmitter had been shot out, although my receiver was working. But, I was unsuccessful in attempting to turn the lead over to a young ensign who had joined up for the return flight. The young pilots always seemed to assume that the Air Group Commander would lead them home, radio or no radio.

 

As planes began to join up en route back to the carriers, I gave the close-up signal in order to attempt to count the air-craft accompanying me and to observe those that I was certain would go down for lack of fuel somewhere on our return trip. I gave a visual signal to my wingmen to lean back the mixture control, and then paid attention to my navigation and attempted to verify the intensity of the wind over the water to improve my dead reckoning track.  Complete darkness was with us at this point and I received my first report of an aircraft making a forced landing in the ocean. I plotted his position, but was unable to acknowledge because of my transmitter and the same thing occurred many times that night.

 

In all, 7 fighters, 2 torpedo planes and 12 dive bombers from the Hornet Air Group splashed before we reached the carrier area. There appeared to be some confusion in the Task  Force as signals were first given to the Destroyers to make smoke. This probably was because they felt we were lost. It would have been a fine signal in the daytime, but at night it only added to the intensity  of the  darkness  and almost screened the ships from view.

 

 

Finally, much to our surprise, there were many searchlights flashing in the sky. As we flew overhead and identified our re-spective carriers, I noticed that my gauge was reading empty but decided that some of the boys were in a worse position. I gave the break-up signal and led the first group down into the groove, after which I waved off and let the others land and tried to lead some of the stragglers back to the carrier.

 

 After some time had lapsed, the carrier notified me that I could land aboard but that due to deck crashes, only one arresting cable remained intact. I approached for a straight-in approach, receiving the wands from the Signal Officer, and was told that I was the only aircraft in the air. Much to my surprise, a shadow of an aircraft appeared in the line of vision between the Signal Officer and myself. Immediately the Signal Officer appeared to give a wave off. I was not sure whether the wave off was for me or the unknown aircraft, but decided to take it and land in the water alongside.

 

As I applied the throttle the engine quit while I was some 50 feet in the air over the ramp. I pushed the nose of the Hellcat over and dived for the deck. At the same time I hit one brake in an attempt to loop the aircraft into the walkway to keep it from going up the deck into the parked aircraft. I was successful, and as the plane started over the side in a tail first position, the raised 40 mm gun mounts alongside the deck stopped the aircraft from going over the side.  Some 10 or 15 of the Flight Deck crew hung onto the wing while I climbed out of the cockpit up to the flight deck with chart board under arm. 

 

As I reached the flight deck, they let go of the plane and it went over the side—with my film of the battle! I proceeded to the bridge with my chart board and plot of aircraft down and delivered it to Admiral Jocko Clark. After a brief report, I went below for a sandwich and swig of "tea." It had been six hours since takeoff.

 

After rescue operations were completed the next day, our total losses were one bomber pilot and crew member lost in combat, and one bomber crewman lost in the water landings.

 

Pages 112-114 “Battles of the Phillipine Sea” by VADM Charles A. Lockwood and COL Hans Christian Adamson 1967. 

Jackson Dominick Arnold - 3 November 1912 - 8 December 2007

Official US NAVY Biography

Jackson Dominick Arnold was born in Gainesville, Florida, on 3 November 1912, son of Mrs. (Irene E. Dominick) Arnold and the late Major Albert Charles Arnold, USA. He attended Hyattsville (Maryland) High School; Central high School, Washington, DC, and the Stadium High School, Tacoma, Washington, prior to his appointment to the US Naval Academy, Annapolis, Maryland, from the Third District of South Carolina in 1930. As a midshipman he played varsity tennis and was a member of the “N” club. Graduated and commissioned Ensign on 30 May 1934, he subsequently advanced in rank, attaining that of Admiral, to date from 14 October 1970.

Following graduation from the Naval Academy in 1934, he reported on board USS Arizona, and in January 1937 was detached for flight training at the Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Florida. Designated Naval Aviator in December 1937, with flight orders signed by then Captain William F. Halsey, USN, he then joined Torpedo Squadron SIX, as Material Officer, operating from USS Enterprise for its shakedown cruise.  Transferred to Scouting USS Savannah in June 1938, he had duty as Senior Aviator of Cruiser Scouting Squadron EIGHT until may 1940. He was next assigned to the Naval Air Station, Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii, as Assistant Assembly and Repair Officer, and Inspection and Survey officer, and was so serving when the Japanese attacked the Naval Base there on 7 December 1941.

From May 1942 to March 1943 he had duty in connection with the forming and he training of personnel for Torpedo Squadron TWO at the Naval Air Station, Quonset Point, Rhode Island. He commanded that squadron, which has attached to USS Hornet, until June 1943, when he became Commander Carrier Air Group TWO. For outstanding services while on board the Hornet, he was awarded the following: Distinguished Flying Cross: “For heroism and extraordinary achievement...as Commander of Torpedo Squadron TWO..in action against enemy Japanese forces in the Hollandia, New Guinea Area, 21, 23, and 24 April; and on Truk Islands, 29 and 30  April 1944...” during which he destroyed three enemy twin-engined medium bombers and a large enemy antiaircraft gun position and directed attacks on fuel and ammunition dumps, barracks, and large warehouse areas.

Navy Cross: “...Particpating in a strike against hostile surface units, Commander Arnold scored a damaging near miss on a carrier and directed his flight in damaging and probably destroying the enemy vessel and in obtaining a torpedo hit on a cruiser...” on 20 June 1944, during the First battle of the Philippine Sea.

Air Medal: “...On 12 September 1944, in the vicinity of the Philippine Islands, he skillfully attacked and destroyed a single engine enemy fighter plane while leading a strike against important enemy bases...”

Silver Star Medal: “...On September 21, 1944, in the vicinity of the Philippine Islands, he personally directed naval air units in a strike against an important enemy harbor... the results (of which) were devastating to the enemy causing the destruction of and damage to a sizeable amount of merchant shipping and shore facilities...”

He was also awarded Gold Stars in lieu of the Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth Air Medal, and a Gold Star in Lieu of the Second Distinguished Flying Cross for completing twenty-five missions, during the period 30 March to 7 September 1944, in the Guam, Woleai, Ponape, Palau, Bonin, and Philippine Islands Areas. He is also entitled to the Ribbon for, and a facsimile of, the Presidential Unit Citation awarded USS Hornet.

Returning to the United States in December 1944, he was assigned to the Aviation Plans Division, Office of the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (Air), Navy Department, Washington, DC. There he was a member of a Board to develop a personnel program similar to the Integrated Aeronautic Program developed by Admiral Arthur W. Radford, USN; and later was recorder of the Board to review the Integrated Aeronautic Program in order to insure policies for Naval aviation which would provide a unified program capable of expansion in time of national emergency. During the period October 1946 to December 1947 he served as Head of the Integrated Aeronautic Program Unit, which was engaged in monitoring the program, and preparing reports for DCNO (Air) and the Chief of the Bureau of Aeronautics. He also had duty as Secretary for the Air Planning Group engaged in the development of policy for the Naval Aviation Program.

In January 1948 he joined USS Boxer as Air Officer, and in September of that year was detached for duty as Assistant Overhaul and Repair Officer, later Overhaul and Repair Officer, at the Naval Air Station, San Diego, California, and while there was designated, 27 September 1948, aeronautical engineering duty officer. In June 1950 he reported for instruction at the Harvard Graduate School of Business Administration, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and in June 1952 received the degree of Master of Business Administration. While there he had industry training, July-August 1951, at the General Mills Corporation, Minneapolis, Minnesota. He became Head of the Technical Division, Office of the Bureau of Aeronautics General Representative, Western District, with headquarters in Los Angeles, California.

He was Bureau of Aeronautics Representative, Burbank, California, from July 1953 until March 1955, when he was assigned to the Bureau of Aeronautics, Navy Department, as Director of the Contracts Division.

Under orders of 27 March 1958, he served as Commanding Officer, Naval Air Material Center, Naval Base, Philadelphia, and on 31 July 1961, he was again ordered to the Navy Department to serve in the Bureau of Naval Weapons (combination of Bureaus of Aeronautics and Ordance, effective 1 January 1961), as Assistant Chief for Production and Quality Control. On 30 November 1963 he joined the Staff of Commander Naval Air Force, US Pacific Fleet as Force Material Officer.

In September 1966, Admiral Arnold assumed duty as Deputy Chief of Naval Material for Logistic Support, Navy Department. In August 1967 he became Vice Chief of Naval Material and on 3 June 1970 he relieved Admiral I.J. Galatin as Chief of Naval Material. “For exceptionally meritorious service.. as Vice Chief of Naval Material from August 1967 to May 1970, and Acting Chief of Naval Material from June 1970 to September 1970 and as Chief of Naval Material from October 1970 to December 1971...” he was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. On 1 December 1971 he was transferred to the Retired List of the US Navy.

In addition to the Navy Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal, the Silver Star Medal, the Distinguished Flying Cross with Gold Star, the Air Medal with four Gold Stars, and the Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon, Admiral Arnold has the American Defense Service Medal with silver star (five engagements); World War II Victory Medal; the National Defense Service Medal with bronze star; the Vietnam Service Medal with one star and the Philippine Liberation Ribbon. He also has the Expert Rifleman Medal, the Expert Pistol Shot Medal and the Philippine Republic Presidential Unit Citation Badge.

He is a member of the Army-Navy Country Club, Arlington, Virginia, the American Jujitsu Guild, Honolulu, the Quiet Birdmen, and the Harvard Business School Club of Washington, DC.

He died 8 December 2007. 

75 Years Ago Today - Pearl Harbor - 7 December 1941

Seventy-five years ago tonight, as this is written, twenty-nine year old LTjg Jackson D. Arnold, USN, USNA Class of 1934, an Engineering Test Pilot assigned to Ford Island in the middle of Pearl Harbor was at one of the usual Saturday night parties very common at the time.  He and his new girlfriend Muriel McChesney would not get home until early the next morning.  No problems, it was going to be a lazy Sunday.  He could sleep in.  Jack was, in today’s terms, a Party Animal.  He dropped off Muriel at her home a mile or so away near the foot of Diamond Head and went home to what might be generously called sleep.  Things were good, things were stable.  All was well.

Things would change.  Change faster than Jack could imagine.

Just before 0800, Jack awoke to the biggest bang he had heard since he was the Officer in Charge of ARIZONA’s Number Four Turret.  He rolled out of bed, ran out side and looked up.  Divebombers, rolling in on Pearl Harbor, meatballs on their sides.  The bang had been a Jap mistaking his pickle button for a radio key.  A 500 pounder fell a few hundred feet from his front lanai.  He ran back inside, put on his khaki uniform, grabbed his desktop radio and headed towards Pearl, with a quick stop to give Muriel the radio and tell her to keep her wits about her and listen to the radio.

Into his car and towards Pearl.  As he raced along what is now Nimitz Highway, through the cane fields, a military staff car pulled in front of him, shortly thereafter a truck pulled in behind him.  A convoy of three.  Soon a Zero found them, rolling in, he strafed the staff car, which ran off into the cane fields.  The Jap came back around and rolled in on the truck, riddled with bullets, it went off burning into the cane fields.  Jack had had enough of that, he pulled off the road and dove under the car.   After about two minutes, it came to him; there he was under the only potential target.  He decided he would more likely survive if he were a moving target and not hiding under the gas tank.  Back on the road!  In a few minutes he came to the Pearl Boat Facility where he looked for a launch to Ford Island.  No launches!  Then, he looked in the boat shed.  It was full of launches and cowering coxswains.  

Jack jumped into the launch closest to the open boat house door.  A coxswain came out, “You can’t take that, she’s mine.”  Jack said, “Well, she’s going to Ford Island.”  “Not without me driving,” as the coxswain hopped aboard and started her.

Arriving at Ford Island in the middle of the first wave, Jack sprinted across the field, scrambled into the only flyable F-4F Wildat and got her running.  A plane captain clambered up the side of the running aircraft to tell him that not only was the aircraft very low on fuel, but it was totally devoid of ammunition.  So much for his first air to air victory.  With no other flyable aircraft remaining, he looked about for a way to “contribute to the war effort.”

Just before the second wave hit, Jack came across a young Marine who had lost his life in the first wave attack, but kept his BAR from hitting the ground.  Jack, having been on the All Navy Rifle and Pistol Teams and an avid bird hunter felt at home with the Browning.  As he stood there near the base of the new tower, a lone torpedo bomber rolled in to strafe the tower and thus him.  Judging his lead carefully, he emptied two magazines into the Jap, killing the pilot and severing a line or two.  Smoke and flame poured from the plane as it crashed on the field.  The second wave was gone.  Jack went over to the wreck, it was the Torpedo Squadron Commander.  Jack took a bottle of sake from the plane, they would not need it now.  He took a big gulp, passed it to sailors gathering to see what he had found, and ran back to the whaleboat he had taken to Ford Island.

Grabbing the launch, he put out for ARIZONA to pick up survivors.  The first person he pulled from the water exclaimed, “Mr. Arnold! Mr. Arnold! Mr. Arnold!”  Looking at the man, covered head to toe in bunkers, black as a seal, Jack responded, “Sir, you have the advantage of me.  Who the blazes are you?”  The slippery dark form responded, “Sir, it is me, Johnson.”  The Number Four Turret Captain, the Petty Officer with whom Jack had worked on his first assignment out of the Naval Academy.  

Things would change for Jack.  In five weeks, he would marry his new girl friend Muriel, a marriage that would last over 60 years.  In less than a year, he would be a full Commander, form a new Air Group, Air Group Two, be the Torpedo Squadron Commander, with a very short but more successful career than the Jap Commander he shot down.  He would be Air Group Two’s first Commander or CAG for her first War Cruise on HORNET, the second carrier of that name.  Shooting down four more Japs, he would command the most successful Air Group of the war.  After the war, Jack would be Air Officer on BOXER, one of the first jet pilots in the Navy, then go into the Bureau of Naval Materiel.  He would design space suits, pioneer new techniques in aircraft and ship procurement.  Then finally he would be the first Commander of the newly formed Naval Materiel Command, the biggest command in the Navy.  He would retire as a Four Star Admiral.  But, he would always be known as Gentleman Jack whose men would follow him anywhere.

More later!

Greater Love Hath No Man

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.”

Pearl Harbor Citation

Dorothy Sivyer (Jack Arnold’s youngest sister) passed away about 0500L 31 December 2014, the last of her generation, she leaves behind five daughters and their families.   Amongst her papers, this was found:

Tales from the first carrier HORNET - Doolittle Tokyo Raid - The view from Plane 13

USS HORNET - CV-8

Pay particular attention to who he roomed with on HORNET.  You will not be disappointed in the read.

Firsthand account by the pilot of aircraft #13 on the Doolittle Raid off the Hornet in 1942. Take the time and enjoy a bit of history.

 

My name is Edgar McElroy. My friends call me "Mac". I was born and raised in Ennis , Texas the

youngest of five children, son of Harry and Jennie McElroy. Folks say that I was the quiet one. We lived at 609 North Dallas Street and attended the Presbyterian Church.

My dad had an auto mechanic's shop downtown close to the main fire station. My family was a hard working bunch, and I was expected to work at dad's garage after school and on Saturdays, so I grew up in an atmosphere of machinery, oil and grease. Occasionally I would hear a lone plane fly over, and would run out in the street and strain my eyes against the sun to watch it. Someday, that would be me up there! 

I really like cars and I was always busy on some project and it wasn't long before I decided to build my very own Model-T out of spare parts. I got an engine from over here, a frame from over there, and wheels from someplace else, using only the good parts from old cars that were otherwise shot. It wasn't very pretty, but it was all mine. I enjoyed driving on the dirt roads around town and the feeling of freedom and speed. That car of mine could really go fast; 40 miles per hour! 

In high school I played football and tennis, and was good enough at football to receive an athletic scholarship from Trinity University in Waxahachie. I have to admit that sometimes I daydreamed in class, and often times I thought about flying my very own airplane and being up there in the clouds. That is when I even decided to take a correspondence course in aircraft engines.

Whenever I got the chance, I would take my girl on a date up to Love Field in Dallas . We would watch the airplanes and listen to those mighty piston engines roar. I just loved it and if she didn't, well that was just too bad. 

After my schooling, I operated a filling station with my brother, then drove a bus, and later had a job as a machinist in Longview , but I never lost my love of airplanes and my dream of flying. With what was going on in Europe and in Asia , I figured that our country would be drawn into war someday, so I decided to join the Army Air Corps in November of 1940. This way I could finally follow my dream. 

I reported for primary training in California . The training was rigorous and frustrating at times. We trained at airfields all over California . It was tough going, and many of the guys washed out. When I finally saw that I was going to make it, I wrote to my girl back in Longview , Texas . Her name is Agnes Gill. I asked her to come out to California for my graduation. and oh yeah, also to marry me. 

I graduated on July 11, 1941. I was now a real, honest-to-goodness Army Air Corps pilot. Two days later, I married "Aggie" in Reno , Nevada . We were starting a new life together and were very happy. I received my orders to report to Pendleton , Oregon and join the 17th Bomb Group. Neither of us had traveled much before and the drive north through the Cascade Range of the Sierra Nevada 's was interesting and beautiful. 

It was an exciting time for us. My unit was the first to receive the new B-25 medium bomber. When I saw it for the first time I was in awe. It looked so huge. It was so sleek and powerful. The guys started calling it the "rocket plane" and I could hardly wait to get my hands on it. I told Aggie that it was really something! Reminded me of a big old scorpion, just ready to sting! Man, I could barely wait!

We were transferred to another airfield in Washington State , where we spent a lot a time flying practice missions and attacking imaginary targets. Then, there were other assignments in Mississippi and Georgia , for more maneuvers and more practice. 

We were on our way back to California on December 7th when we got word of a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor . We listened with mixed emotions to the announcements on the radio, and the next day to the declaration of war. What the President said, it just rang over and over in my head, ".With confidence in our armed forces, with the un-bounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us God." By gosh, I felt as though he was talking straight to me! I didn't know what would happen to us, but we all knew that we would be going somewhere now. 

The first weeks of the war, we were back in Oregon flying patrols at sea looking for possible Japanese submarines. We had to be up at 0330 hours to warm up the engines of our planes. There was 18 inches of snow on the ground, and it was so cold that our engine oil congealed overnight. We placed big tarps over the engines that reached down to the ground. Inside this tent we used plumbers blow torches to thaw out the engines. I figured that my dad would be proud of me, if he could see me inside this tent with all this machinery, oil and grease. After about an hour of this, the engines were warm enough to start. 

We flew patrols over the coasts of Oregon and Washington from dawn until dusk. Once I thought I spotted a sub and started my bomb run, even had my bomb doors open, but I pulled out of it when I realized that it was just a big whale.

Lucky for me, I would have never heard the end of that! 

Actually it was lucky for us that the Japanese didn't attack the west coast, because we just didn't have a strong enough force to beat them off. Our country was in a real fix now, and overall things looked pretty bleak to most folks. In early February, we were ordered to report to Columbus , South Carolina . Man, this Air Corps sure moves a fellow around a lot! Little did I know what was coming next!

After we got settled in Columbus , my squadron commander called us all together. He told us that an awfully hazardous mission was being planned, and then he asked for volunteers. There were some of the guys that did not step forward, but I was one of the ones that did. My co-pilot was shocked. He said "You can't volunteer, Mac! You're married, and you and Aggie are expecting a baby soon. Don't do it!" I told him that "I got into the Air Force to do what I can and Aggie understands how I feel. The war won't be easy for any of us.” 

We that volunteered were transferred to Eglin Field near Valparaiso , Florida in late February. When we all got together, there were about 140 of us volunteers and we were told that we were now part of the "Special B-25 Project. 

We set about our training, but none of us knew what it was all about. We were ordered not to talk about it, not even to our wives. 

In early March, we were all called in for a briefing, and gathered together in a big building there on the base. Somebody said that the fellow who head of this thing is coming to talk to us and in walks Lieutenant Colonel Jimmy Doolittle. He was already an aviation legend, and there he stood right in front of us. I was truly amazed just to meet him.

Colonel Doolittle explained that this mission would be extremely dangerous, and that only volunteers could take part. He said that he could not tell us where we were going, but he could say that some of us would not be coming back.

There was a silent pause; you could have heard a pin drop. Then Doolittle said that anyone of us could withdraw now, and that no one would criticize us for this decision. No one backed out! From the outset, all volunteers worked from the early morning hours until well after sunset. All excess weight was stripped from the planes and extra gas tanks were added. The lower gun turret was removed, the heavy liaison radio was removed, and then the tail guns were taken out and more gas tanks were put aboard. We extended the range of that plane from 1000 miles out to 2500 miles. 

Then I was assigned my crew. There was Richard Knobloch the co-pilot, Clayton Campbell the navigator, Robert Bourgeous the bombardier, Adam Williams the flight engineer and gunner, and me, Mac McElroy the pilot. Over the coming days, I came to respect them a lot. They were a swell bunch of guys, just regular All-American boys.

We got a few ideas from the training as to what type of mission that we had signed on for. A Navy pilot had joined our group to coach us at short takeoffs and also in shipboard etiquette. We began our short takeoff practice. Taking off with first a light load, then a normal load, and finally overloaded up to 31,000 lbs. 

The shortest possible take-off was obtained with flaps full down, stabilizer set three-fourths, tail heavy, full power against the brakes and releasing the brakes simultaneously as the engine revved up to max power. We pulled back gradually on the stick and the airplane left the ground with the tail skid about one foot from the runway. It was a very unnatural and scary way to get airborne! I could hardly believe it myself, the first time as I took off with a full gas load and dummy bombs within just 700 feet of runway in a near stall condition. We were, for all practical purposes, a slow flying gasoline bomb!

In addition to take-off practice, we refined our skills in day and night navigation, gunnery, bombing, and low level flying. We made cross country flights at tree-top level, night flights and navigational flights over the Gulf of Mexico without the use of a radio. After we started that short-field takeoff routine, we had some pretty fancy competition between the crews.

I think that one crew got it down to about 300 feet on a hot day. We were told that only the best crews would actually go on the mission, and the rest would be held in reserve. One crew did stall on takeoff, slipped back to the ground, busting up their landing gear. They were eliminated from the mission. Doolittle emphasized again and again the extreme danger of this operation, and made it clear that anyone of us who so desired could drop out with no questions asked. No one did.

On one of our cross country flights, we landed at Barksdale Field in Shreveport , and I was able to catch a bus over to Longview to see Aggie. We had a few hours together and then we had to say our goodbyes. I told her I hoped to be back in time for the baby's birth, but I couldn't tell her where I was going.. As I walked away, I turned and walked backwards for a ways, taking one last look at my beautiful pregnant Aggie. 

Within a few days of returning to our base in Florida we were abruptly told to pack our things. After just three weeks of practice, we were on our way. This was it. It was time to go. It was the middle of March 1942 and I was 30 years old. Our orders were to fly to McClelland Air Base in Sacramento , California on our own, at the lowest possible level. So here we went on our way west, scraping the tree tops at 160 miles per hour, and skimming along just 50 feet above plowed fields. We crossed North Texas and then the panhandle, scaring the dickens out of livestock, buzzing farm houses and a many a barn along the way. 

Over the Rocky Mountains and across the Mojave Desert dodging thunderstorms, we enjoyed the flight immensely and although tempted, I didn't do too much dare-devil stuff. We didn't know it at the time, but it was good practice for what lay ahead of us. It proved to be our last fling. Once we arrived in Sacramento , the mechanics went over our plane with a fine-toothed comb. Of the twenty-two planes that made it, only those whose pilots reported no mechanical problems were allowed to go on. The others were shunted aside.

After having our plane serviced, we flew on to Alameda Naval Air Station in Oakland . As I came in for final approach, we saw it! I excitedly called the rest of the crew to take a look. There below us was a huge aircraft carrier. It was the USS Hornet, and it looked so gigantic! Man, I had never even seen a carrier until this moment.

There were already two B-25s parked on the flight deck. Now we knew! My heart was racing, and I thought about how puny my plane would look on board this mighty ship. As soon as we landed and taxied off the runway, a jeep pulled in front of me with a big "Follow Me" sign on the back. We followed it straight up to the wharf, alongside the towering Hornet.

All five of us were looking up and just in awe, scarcely believing the size of this thing. As we left the plane, there was already a Navy work crew swarming around attaching cables to the lifting rings on top of the wings and the fuselage. As we walked towards our quarters, I looked back and saw them lifting my plane up into the air and swing it over the ship's deck. It looked so small and lonely.

Later that afternoon, all crews met with Colonel Doolittle and he gave last minute assignments. He told me to go to the Presidio and pick up two hundred extra "C" rations. I saluted, turned, and left, not having any idea where the Presidio was, and not exactly sure what a "C" ration was.

I commandeered a Navy staff car and told the driver to take me to the Presidio, and he did. On the way over, I realized that I had no written signed orders and that this might get a little sticky. So in I walked into the Army supply depot and made my request, trying to look poised and confident. The supply officer asked "What is your authorization for this request, sir?" I told him that I could not give him one. "And what is the destination?" he asked. I          answered, "The aircraft carrier, Hornet, docked at Alameda ." He said, "Can you tell me who ordered the rations, sir?" And I replied with a smile, "No, I cannot." The supply officers huddled together, talking and glanced back over towards me. Then he walked back over and assured me that the rations would be delivered that afternoon. Guess they figured that something big was up. They were right. The next morning we all boarded the ship. 

Trying to remember my naval etiquette, I saluted the Officer of the Deck and said "Lt. McElroy, requesting permission to come aboard." The officer returned the salute and said "Permission granted." Then I turned aft and saluted the flag.. I made it, without messing up. It was April 2, and in full sunlight, we left San Francisco Bay . The whole task force of ships, two cruisers, four destroyers, and a fleet oiler, moved slowly with us under the Golden Gate Bridge . Thousands of people looked on. Many stopped their cars on the bridge and waved to us as we passed underneath. I thought to myself, I hope there aren't any spies up there waving. 

Once at sea, Doolittle called us together. "Only a few of you know our destination and you others have guessed about various targets. Gentlemen, your target is Japan !" A sudden cheer exploded among the men. "Specifically, Yokohama , Tokyo , Nagoya , Kobe , Nagasaki and Osaka . The Navy task force will get us as close as possible and we'll launch our planes. We will hit our targets and proceed to airfields in China ." After the cheering stopped, he asked again, if any of us desired to back out, no questions asked. Not one did, not one.

Then the ship's Captain then went over the intercom to the whole ship's company. The loudspeaker blared, "The destination is Tokyo !" A tremendous cheer broke out from everyone on board. I could hear metal banging together and wild screams from down below decks. It was quite a rush! I felt relieved actually. We finally knew where we were going.

I set up quarters with two Navy pilots, putting my cot between their two bunks. They couldn't get out of bed without stepping on me. It was just fairly cozy in there, yes it was. Those guys were part of the Torpedo Squadron Eight and were just swell fellows. The rest of the guys bedded down in similar fashion to me, some had to sleep on bedrolls in the Admiral's chartroom. As big as this ship was, there wasn't any extra room anywhere. Every square foot had a purpose... A few days later we discovered where they had an ice cream machine!

There were sixteen B-25s tied down on the flight deck, and I was flying number 13. All the carrier's fighter planes were stored away helplessly in the hangar deck.. They couldn't move until we were gone. Our Army mechanics were all on board, as well as our munitions loaders and several back up crews, in case any of us got sick or backed out. We settled into a daily routine of checking our planes. The aircraft were grouped so closely together on deck that it wouldn't take much for them to get damaged. Knowing that my life depended on this plane, I kept a close eye on her.

Day after day, we met with the intelligence officer and studied our mission plan. Our targets were assigned, and maps and objective folders were furnished for study. We went over approach routes and our escape route towards China . I never studied this hard back at Trinity. Every day at dawn and at dusk the ship was called to general quarters and we practiced finding the quickest way to our planes. If at any point along the way, we were discovered by the enemy fleet, we were to launch our bombers immediately so the Hornet could bring up its fighter planes. We would then be on our own, and try to make it to the nearest land, either Hawaii or Midway Island .

Dr. Thomas White, a volunteer member of plane number 15, went over our medical records and gave us inoculations for a whole bunch of diseases that hopefully I wouldn't catch. He gave us training sessions in emergency first aid and lectured us at length about water purification and such. Tom, a medical doctor, had learned how to be a gunner just so he could go on this mission.. We put some new tail guns in place of the ones that had been taken out to save weight. Not exactly functional, they were two broom handles, painted black. The thinking was they might help scare any Jap fighter planes. Maybe, maybe not. 

On Sunday, April 14, we met up with Admiral Bull Halsey's task force just out of Hawaii and joined into one big force. The carrier Enterprise was now with us, another two heavy cruisers, four more destroyers an another oiler. We were designated as Task Force 16. It was quite an impressive sight to see, and represented the bulk of what was left of the U.S. Navy after the devastation of Pearl Harbor . There were over 10,000 Navy personnel sailing into harm's way, just to deliver us sixteen Army planes to the Japs, orders of the President. 

As we steamed further west, tension was rising as we drew nearer and nearer to Japan . Someone thought of arming us with some old ...45 pistols that they had on board. I went through that box of 1911 pistols, they were in such bad condition that I took several of them apart, using the good parts from several useless guns until I built a serviceable weapon. Several of the other pilots did the same. Admiring my "new" pistol, I held it up, and thought about my old Model-T. 

Colonel Doolittle called us together on the flight deck. We all gathered round, as well as many Navy personnel. He pulled out some medals and told us how these friendship medals from the Japanese government had been given to some of our Navy officers several years back. And now the Secretary of the Navy had requested us to return them. Doolittle wired them to a bomb while we all posed for pictures. Something to cheer up the folks back home!

I began to pack my things for the flight, scheduled for the 19th. I packed some extra clothes and a little brown bag that Aggie had given me, inside were some toilet items and a few candy bars. No letters or identity cards were allowed, only our dog-tags. I went down to the wardroom to have some ice cream and settle up my mess bill. It only amounted to $5 a day and with my per diem of $6 per day, I came out a little ahead. By now, my Navy pilot roommates were about ready to get rid of me, but I enjoyed my time with them. They were alright. Later on, I learned that both of them were killed at the Battle of Midway. They were good men. Yes, very good men.

Colonel Doolittle let each crew pick our own target. We chose the Yokosuka Naval Base about twenty miles from Tokyo . We loaded 1450 rounds of ammo and four 500-pound bombs... A little payback, direct from Ellis County , Texas ! We checked and re-checked our plane several times. Everything was now ready. I felt relaxed, yet tensed up at the same time. Day after tomorrow, we will launch when we are 400 miles out. I lay in my cot that night, and rehearsed the mission over and over in my head. It was hard to sleep as I listened to sounds of the ship. 

Early the next morning, I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast, expecting another full day on board, and I noticed that the ship was pitching and rolling quite a bit this morning, more than normal. I was reading through the April 18th day plan of the Hornet, and there was a message in it which said, "From the Hornet to the Army - Good luck, good hunting and God bless you." I still had a large lump in my throat from reading this, when all of a sudden, the intercom blared, "General Quarters, General Quarters, All hands man your battle stations! Army pilots, man your planes!!!" There was instant reaction from everyone in the room and food trays went crashing to the floor. I ran down to my room jumping through the hatches along the way, grabbed my bag, and ran as fast as I could go to the flight deck. I met with my crew at the plane, my heart was pounding. Someone said, "What's going on?" The word was that the Enterprise had spotted an enemy trawler. It had been sunk, but it had transmitted radio messages.. We had been found out!

The weather was crummy, the seas were running heavy, and the ship was pitching up and down like I had never seen before. Great waves were crashing against the bow and washing over the front of the deck. This wasn't going to be easy! Last minute instructions were given. We were reminded to avoid non-military targets, especially the Emperor's Palace. Do not fly to Russia , but fly as far west as possible, land on the water and launch our rubber raft. This was going to be a one-way trip! We were still much too far out and we all knew that our chances of making land were somewhere between slim and none. Then at the last minute, each plane loaded an extra ten 5-gallon gas cans to give us a fighting chance of reaching China .

 

We all climbed aboard, started our engines and warmed them up, just feet away from the plane in front of us and the plane behind us. Knobby, Campbell , Bourgeois and me in the front, Williams, the gunner was in the back, separated from us by a big rubber gas tank. I called back to Williams on the intercom and told him to look sharp and don't take a nap! He answered dryly, "Don't worry about me, Lieutenant. If they jump us, I'll just use my little black broomsticks to keep the Japs off our tail.”

 

The ship headed into the wind and picked up speed. There was now a near gale force wind and water spray coming straight over the deck. I looked down at my instruments as my engines revved up. My mind was racing. I went over my mental checklist, and said a prayer? God please, help us! Past the twelve planes in front of us, I strained to see the flight deck officer as he leaned into the wind and signaled with his arms for Colonel Doolittle to come to full power. I looked over at Knobby and we looked each other in the eye. He just nodded to me and we both understood. 

With the deck heaving up and down, the deck officer had to time this just right. Then I saw him wave Doolittle to go, and we watched breathlessly to see what happened. When his plane pulled up above the deck, Knobby just let out with, "Yes! Yes!" The second plane, piloted by Lt. Hoover, appeared to stall with its nose up and began falling toward the waves. We groaned and called out, "Up! Up! Pull it up!”

Finally, he pulled out of it, staggering back up into the air, much to our relief! One by one, the planes in front of us took off. The deck pitched wildly, 60 feet or more, it looked like. One plane seemed to drop down into the drink and disappeared for a moment, then pulled back up into sight.

There was sense of relief with each one that made it. We gunned our engines and started to roll forward. Off to the right, I saw the men on deck cheering and waving their covers! We continued inching forward, careful to keep my left main wheel and my nose wheel on the white guidelines that had been painted on the deck for us. Get off a little bit too far left and we go off the edge of the deck. A little too far to the right and our wing-tip will smack the island of the ship.

With the best seat on the ship, we watched Lt. Bower take off in plane number 12 and I taxied up to the starting line, put on the brakes and looked down to my left. My main wheel was right on the line. Applied more power to the engines, and I turned my complete attention to the deck officer on my left, who was circling his paddles. Now my adrenaline was really pumping! We went to full power, and the noise and vibration inside the plane went way up.

He circled the paddles furiously while watching forward for the pitch of the deck. Then he dropped them, and I said, "Here We Go!" I released the brakes and we started rolling forward, and as I looked down the flight-deck you could see straight down into the angry churning water. As we slowly gained speed, the deck gradually began to pitch back up. I pulled up and our plane slowly strained up and away from the ship. There was a big cheer and whoops from the crew, but I just felt relieved and muttered to myself, "Boy, that was short!”

We made a wide circle above our fleet to check our compass headings and get our bearings. I looked down as we passed low over one of our cruisers and could see the men on deck waving to us. I dropped down to low level, so low we could see the whitecap waves breaking. It was just after 0900, there were broken clouds at 5,000 feet and visibility of about thirty miles due to haze or something. Up ahead and barely in sight, I could see Captain Greening, our flight leader and Bower on his right wing. Flying at 170 mph, I was able to catch up to them in about 30 minutes. We were to stay in this formation until reaching landfall, and then break on our separate ways. Now we settled in for the five hour flight. Tokyo , here we come! 

Williams was in the back emptying the extra gas cans into the gas tank as fast as we had burned off enough fuel. He then punched holes in the tins and pushed them out the hatch against the wind. Some of the fellows ate sandwiches and other goodies that the Navy had put aboard for us... I wasn't hungry. I held onto the controls with a firm grip as we raced along westward just fifty feet above the cold rolling ocean, as low as I dared to fly. Being so close to the choppy waves gave you a true sense of speed. Occasionally our windshield was even sprayed with a little saltwater. It was an exhilarating feeling, and I felt as though the will and spirit of our whole country was pushing us along. I didn't feel too scared, just anxious. There was a lot riding on this thing, and on me.

As we began to near land, we saw an occasional ship here and there. None of them close enough to be threatening, but just the same, we were feeling more edgy. Then at 1330 we sighted land, the Eastern shore of Honshu . With Williams now on his guns in the top turret and Campbell on the nose gun, we came ashore still flying low as possible and were surprised to see people on the ground waving to us as we flew in over the farmland. It was beautiful countryside. 

Campbell, our navigator, said, "Mac, I think we're going to be about sixty miles too far north. I'm not positive, but pretty sure." I decided that he was absolutely right and turned left ninety degrees, went back just offshore and followed the coast line south. When I thought we had gone far enough, I climbed up to two thousand feet to find out where we were. We started getting fire from anti-aircraft guns. Then we spotted Tokyo Bay , turned west and put our nose down diving toward the water. Once over the bay, I could see our target, Yokosuka Naval Base. Off to the right there was already smoke visible over Tokyo . Coming in low over the water, I increased speed to 200 mph and told everyone, "Get Ready!” 

When we were close enough, I pulled up to 1300 feet and opened the bomb doors. There were furious black bursts of anti-aircraft fire all around us, but I flew straight on through them, spotting our target, the torpedo works and the dry-docks. I saw a big ship in the dry-dock just as we flew over it. Those flak bursts were really getting close and bouncing us around, when I heard Bourgeois shouting, "Bombs Away!”

I couldn't see it, but Williams had a bird's eye view from the back and he shouted jubilantly, "We got an aircraft carrier! The whole dock is burning!" I started turning to the south and strained my neck to look back and at that moment saw a large crane blow up and start falling over!

Take that! There was loud yelling and clapping each other on the back. We were all just ecstatic, and still alive! But there wasn't much time to celebrate. We had to get out of here and fast! When we were some thirty miles out to sea, we took one last look back at our target, and could still see huge billows of black smoke. Up until now, we had been flying for Uncle Sam, but now we were flying for ourselves.

We flew south over open ocean, parallel to the Japanese coast all afternoon. We saw a large submarine apparently at rest, and then in another fifteen miles, we spotted three large enemy cruisers headed for Japan . There were no more bombs, so we just let them be and kept on going. By late afternoon, Campbell calculated that it was time to turn and make for China . Across the East China Sea , the weather out ahead of us looked bad and overcast. Up until now we had not had time to think much about our gasoline supply, but the math did not look good. We just didn't have enough fuel to make it! 

Each man took turns cranking the little hand radio to see if we could pick up the promised radio beacon. There was no signal. This is not good. The weather turned bad and it was getting dark, so we climbed up. I was now flying on instruments, through a dark misty rain. Just when it really looked hopeless of reaching land, we suddenly picked up a strong tailwind. It was an answer to a prayer. Maybe just maybe, we can make it!

In total darkness at 2100 hours, we figured that we must be crossing the coastline, so I began a slow, slow climb to be sure of not hitting any high ground or anything. I conserved as much fuel as I could, getting real low on gas now. The guys were still cranking on the radio, but after five hours of hand cranking with aching hands and backs, there was utter silence. No radio beacon! Then the red light started blinking, indicating twenty minutes of fuel left. 

We started getting ready to bail out. I turned the controls over to Knobby and crawled to the back of the plane, past the now collapsed rubber gas tank. I dumped everything out of my bag and repacked just what I really needed, my .45 pistol, ammunition, flashlight, compass, medical kit, fishing tackle, chocolate bars, peanut butter and crackers. I told Williams to come forward with me so we could all be together for this. There was no other choice. I had to get us as far west as possible, and then we had to jump. 

At 2230 we were up to sixty-five hundred feet. We were over land but still above the Japanese Army in China . We couldn't see the stars, so Campbell couldn't get a good fix on our position. We were flying on fumes now and I didn't want to run out of gas before we were ready to go. Each man filled his canteen, put on his Mae West life jacket and parachute, and filled his bag with rations, those "C" rations from the Presidio. 

I put her on auto-pilot and we all gathered in the navigator's compartment around the hatch in the floor. We checked each other's parachute harness. Everyone was scared, without a doubt. None of us had ever done this before! I said, "Williams first, Bourgeois second, Campbell third, Knobloch fourth and I'll follow you guys! Go fast, two seconds apart! Then count three seconds off and pull your rip-cord!” 

We kicked open the hatch and gathered around the hole looking down into the blackness. It did not look very inviting! Then I looked up at Williams and gave the order, "JUMP!!!" Within seconds they were all gone. 

I turned and reached back for the auto-pilot, but could not reach it, so I pulled the throttles back, then turned and jumped. Counting quickly, thousand one, thousand two, thousand three, I pulled my rip-cord and jerked back up with a terrific shock. At first I thought that I was hung on the plane, but after a few agonizing seconds that seemed like hours, realized that I was free and drifting down.

Being in the total dark, I was disoriented at first but figured my feet must be pointed toward the ground. I looked down through the black mist to see what was coming up. I was in a thick mist or fog, and the silence was so eerie after nearly thirteen hours inside that noisy plane. I could only hear the whoosh, whoosh sound of the wind blowing through my shroud lines and then I heard a loud crash and explosion. My plane!

Looking for my flashlight, I groped through my bag with my right hand, finally pulled it out and shined it down toward the ground, which I still could not see. Finally I picked up a glimmer of water and thought I was landing in a lake. We're too far inland for this to be ocean. I hope! I relaxed my legs a little, thinking I was about to splash into water and would have to swim out, and then bang. I jolted suddenly and crashed over onto my side. Lying there in just a few inches of water, I raised my head and put my hands down into thick mud. It was rice paddy! There was a burning pain, as if someone had stuck a knife in my stomach. I must have torn a muscle or broke something. 

I laid there dazed for a few minutes, and after a while struggled up to my feet. I dug a hole and buried my parachute in the mud. Then started trying to walk, holding my stomach, but every direction I moved the water got deeper. Then, I saw some lights off in the distance. I fished around for my flashlight and signaled one time. Sensing something wrong, I got out my compass and to my horror saw that those lights were off to my west. That must be a Jap patrol! How dumb could I be! Knobby had to be back to my east, so I sat still and quiet and did not move. 

It was a cold dark lonely night. At 0100 hours I saw a single light off to the east. I flashed my light in that direction, one time. It had to be Knobby! I waited a while, and then called out softly, "Knobby?" And a voice replied "Mac, is that you?". Thank goodness, what a relief! Separated by a wide stream, we sat on opposite banks of the water communicating in low voices. After daybreak Knobby found a small rowboat and came across to get me. We started walking east toward the rest of the crew and away from that Japanese patrol. Knobby had cut his hip when he went through the hatch, but it wasn't too awful bad.

We walked together toward a small village and several Chinese came out to meet us, they seemed friendly enough. I said, "Luchu hoo megwa fugi! Luchu hoo megwa fugi!" meaning, "I am an American! I am an American!" Later that morning we found the others. Williams had wrenched his knee when he landed in a tree, but he was limping along just fine. There were hugs all around. I have never been so happy to see four guys in all my life! 

Well, the five of us eventually made it out of China with the help of the local Chinese people and the Catholic missions along the way. They were all very good to us, and later they were made to pay terribly for it, so we found out afterwards. For a couple of weeks we traveled across country. Strafed a couple of times by enemy planes, we kept on moving, by foot, by pony, by car, by train, and by airplane. But we finally made it to India . 

I did not make it home for the baby's birth. I stayed on there flying a DC-3 "Gooney Bird" in the China-Burma-India Theatre for the next several months. I flew supplies over the Himalaya Mountains, or as we called it, over "The Hump" into China . When B-25s finally arrived in India , I flew combat missions over Burma , and then later in the war, flew a B-29 out of the Marianna Islands to bomb Japan again and again. 

After the war, I remained in the Air Force until 1962, when I retired from the service as a Lt. Colonel, and then came back to Texas , my beautiful Texas . First moving to Abilene and then we settled in Lubbock , where Aggie taught school at MacKenzie Junior High. I worked at the S & R Auto Supply, once again in an atmosphere of machinery, oil and grease. 

I lived a good life and raised two wonderful sons that I am very proud of. I feel blessed in many ways. We have a great country, better than most folks know. It is worth fighting for. Some people call me a hero, but I have never thought of myself that way, no. But I did serve in the company of heroes. What we did, will never leave me. It will always be there in my fondest memories. I will always think of the fine and brave men that I was privileged to serve with. 

Remember us, for we were soldiers once and young. With the loss of all aircraft, Doolittle believed that the raid had been a failure, and that he would be court-martialed upon returning to the states. Quite to the contrary, the raid proved to be a tremendous boost to American morale, which had plunged following the Pearl Harbor attack. It also caused serious doubts in the minds of Japanese war planners. They in turn recalled many seasoned fighter plane units back to defend the home islands, which resulted in Japan's weakened air capabilities at the upcoming Battle of Midway and other South Pacific campaigns. 

Edgar "Mac" Mc Elroy, LTC, USAF (Ret.) passed away at his residence in Lubbock , Texas early on the morning of Friday, April 4, 2003.