Random Flights III: Aviators from NARA’s Photo Collection of Aviators: Edward J. Czarnecki and Carl G. Planck, Jr., from Quentin Reynolds’ “70,000 to 1”.  Plus, Raymond K. Hine

Books leave impressions.  Maybe this is by virtue of a book’s very subject matter; perhaps it’s because of an author’s literary style; possibly this arises from a book’s symbolism and message.  And maybe, just maybe, it’s a matter of “age”:  That is, the chance intersection between the era symbolized by a book’s year of publication, and, your “own” age as a reader of that book.

I think this was so for me when I first read Quentin Reynold’s 70,000 to 1 in the late 1960s.  Among the many books in my father’s library (the number seemed innumerable to me at the time, though in retrospect it was hardly so!), more than once I carried 70,000 to 1, Gene Gurney’s Five Down and Glory, or, William Green’s Famous Fighters of the Second World War (specifically, volume I of Famous Fighters; I discovered Volume II some years later) – to elementary school, where – whenever free time permitted, I immersed myself with curiosity, wonder and not-a-little-awe, within a past that that only recently – just a little over two decades previously – had passed.  After all – so yes, this “dates” me – this was in the late 1960s, only two and a half decades after the end of the Second World War.  

As so, in 70,000 to I, I read with wonder about the experiences of Sergeant Gordon Manuel of the B-17 Flying Fortress Honi Kuu Okole, incorrectly noted in the book – as I discovered later! – as Kai O Keleiwa.  As you can appreciate from Justin Taylan’s book review of 70,000 to 1 at Pacific Wrecks, author Quentin Reynolds combines themes of military aviation, escape and evasion, and wilderness survival, to create a contemporary, fast-paced version of Robinson Crusoe.

A particularly inspiring aspect of the book was Reynold’s account of how Manuel met, and was eventually rescued with, American fighter pilots Owen Giertsen, Edward Czarnecki and Carl Planck.  Those names must have left an impression upon me:  In 2014, as I reviewed the photos in Photographic Prints of Air Cadets and Officers, Air Crew, and Notables in the History of Aviation – NARA RG 18-PU, I was more than intrigued to discover Czarnecki’s and Planck’s portraits:  “So, that’s who they were!” 

Their pictures appear below.

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But, first (!) here’s the cover of the first (1946) hardback edition of 70,000 to 1, which features art by Miriam Woods.  (You can view this and other aeronautically themed book art, and many other examples of cover art from books and pulp-fiction magazines, at my brother blog, WordsEnvisioned.  (* Shameless plug *)

Here’s Quentin Reynolds.  Specifically, Quentin James Reynolds.

Quentin James Reynods, at Wikipedia

Quentin James Reynolds, at FindAGrave

Gordon R. Manuel, at Pacific Wrecks

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Second Lieutenant Edward John Czarnecki

431st Fighter Squadron, 475th Fighter Group, 5th Air Force

Edward J. Czarnekci, at Pacific Wrecks

P-38H 42-66948, at Pacific Wrecks

Edward J. Czarnecki, at FindAGrave

Here’s an official WW II Army Air Force Photograph of Lt. Czarnecki and two other fighter pilots, undated image 59978AC (A48682). Caption: This trio of P-38 Lightning pilots knocked down five Japanese Zeros in engagements near Wewak, New Guinea on August 16 and 18, 1943, when more than 200 enemy planes were destroyed.  They are, left to right: Capt. William Walderman of Santa Monica, Calif.; 2nd Lt. Edward Czarnecki of Wilmington, Del.; and 1st Lt. Jack Mankin of Kansas City, Mo.  Their count: Walderman, one; and two each for Czarnecki and Mankin.”

MACR 1235 for P-38H 42-66849 and Lt. Planck, missing on October 23, 1943.  These digital images were scanned from paper photocopies which were themselves made from a fiche copy of the MACR.    

Edward Czarnecki’s name appeared within a list of military casualties published in The Philadelphia Inquirer on November 28, 1943.  Since northern Delaware and southern New Jersey were (still are) within the Inquirer’s primary geographic area of news coverage (…not that I actually r e a d the Inquirer…I don’t…but that’s off topic…), the names of military casualties from Wilmington, Delaware, the vicinity of Camden, New Jersey, and southern ‘Jersey “in general” not uncommonly appeared in the newspaper.

Old Newspapers

The image below shows “setting” of the above article:  Page 2.  Unlike The new York Times, where WW II casualty lists – regardless of length – appeared several pages well “into” the body of the newspaper, WW II casualty lists in the Inquirer always appeared or at least commenced on the paper’s first or second pages.  As the war progressed and casualty lists inevitably became longer, the “first” part of most lists would typically appear “below the fold” on the newspaper’s front page, and continue a few pages into the body of the paper.  

The timing of publication this particular list is actually typical of the appearance of most WW II casualty lists in the (then) print news media:  There was usually (usually…) about a month time lag between the date on which a serviceman was killed, wounded, or missing in action, and the appearance of his name within Casualty Lists released by the War Department.  Thus, a little over one month transpired between Czarnecki’s shoot-down on October 23, 1943, and his name’s appearance in the Inquirer on November 28.  

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First Lieutenant Carl G. Planck

9th Fighter Squadron, 49th Fighter Group, 5th Air Force

Here’s Lt. Planck in an official Army Air Force (undated, but obviously (!) pre-November 1, 1943) photo (122747AC (A32518)).  Caption: “A member of the United States Army Air Force fighter squadron that destroyed seventy-two Japanese planes in aerial combat in New Guinea from June 1, 1942 to January 8, 1943 shortly after the fall of Buna Mission, is shown here.  He is Second Lieutenant Carl G. Planck, 8 Sutherland Avenue, Charleston, South Carolina, with one confirmed victory.”

MACR 1016 for Lt. Planck and P-38H 43-2387, missing on November 1, 1943.  Akin to the MACR for Lt. Czarnecki, these digital images were scanned from paper photocopies, made from fiche.  

Carl G. Planck, at Pacific Wrecks

P-38G 43-2387, at Pacific Wrecks

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First Lieutenant Raymond K. Hine

339th Fighter Squadron, 347h Fighter Group, 13th Air Force

Operation Vengeance – the aerial interception and killing of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto by P-38 Lightnings of the United States army Air Force (specifically, the 339th Fighter Squadron of the 347th Fighter Group) on April 18, 1943 – has continued to be the subject of a vast amount of attention, commentary, and study.  I myself first learned about this story in the Ballantine Books’ paperback Zero, by Masatake Okumiya, Jiro Horikoshi, and – a h e m – Martin Caidin, where the story is covered in Chapter 20.  Appropriately headed “Admiral Yamamoto Dies in Action”, the events of that day are presented from both (primarily) the Japanese, and (secondarily) the American vantage points.  Therein, in terms of American losses, is found the simple statement, “Our pilots shot down Lieutenant Ray Hine’s P-38; and, we verified later most of the fifteen P-38s which returned to Guadalcanal were badly shot up.”  Regardless of the degree of accuracy in the account given in Zero, I was struck by the irony – for lack of a better word – of Hine being the only American pilot not to have returned from the mission.  And then, years later, I found his photograph in NARA RG 18-PU.  “So, that’s who he was…”       

This portrait of Raymond Hine was taken at Kelly Field on September 29, 1941.  Two additional portraits of him (one of which also appears at Pacific Wrecks) at can be found in his biographic profile at FindAGrave.  

1 Lt. Raymond K. Hine, at FindAGrave

1 Lt. Raymond K. Hine, at PacificWrecks

1 Lt. Raymond K. Hine, at Historynet

Random Flights IV: Aviators from NARA’s Photo Collection of Aviators: One Day in August – Lieutenants Voorhis H. Day, Robert M. Stultz, and Arthur Sugas, August 17, 1943

In the nearly eight decades that have ensued since 1943, a huge amount of literature – popular, professional, and academic – has been devoted to 8th Air Force’s Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission of August 17, 1943.  Perhaps this has been inevitable, given the gravity and significance of the loss of sixty B-17 Flying Fortresses incurred during the “Mission Number 84”.  It would seem that most such literature has focused on the events of the mission from vantage point of the tactics and strategy of heavy bombardment.

However, another aspect of the Mission 84 – certainly recorded; certainly noted; certainly in the historical record – was the loss of three P-47 Thunderbolts of the 56th Fighter Group.  As described by Martin Middlebrook in The Schweinfurt-Regensburg Mission – American Raids on 17 August 1943:

“The Americans suffered some casualties.  In the 62nd Squadron, Lieutenant Voorhis Day and his wingman, Lieutenant Robert Stultz, were seen to go down on some of the Messerschmitt 110s and, although their voices were heard happily talking about a possible success for Day, neither was seen again by their fellow pilots.  It is probable that both were caught by German single-engined fighters.  ‘Daisy’ Day’s friends later tried to secure for him the credit for shooting down two Messerschmitt 110s, but confirmation of this was not granted by American authorities.  The third American casualty occurred in that part of the 63rd Squadron which had remained aloft, the officer leading two flights of P-47s preferring to stay as high cover well above the battle – much to the annoyance of the other pilots in those fighters.  These American fighters were then ‘jumped’ by two German planes coming down from an even greater altitude and the P-47 of Lieutenant Arthur Sugas was shot down.  Lieutenant Harold Comstock promptly attacked and shot down one of the Germans but was later disgusted to be fined £5 by his flight leader for breaking formation without orders.  Comstock says, ‘My very first enemy aircraft destroyed had cost me twenty bucks!  I was sorry to have seen my friend Sugas go down but I have to be honest and say that the elation of my first success was by far the uppermost emotion at that moment.  I didn’t know he was dead; I really thought he would get out.’  Lieutenants Sugas, Day and Stultz, all original members of the 56th Fighter Group when it came to England, died.  Their P-47s crashed between Liege and Maastricht.  Five German pilots from three different Luftwaffe units claimed these American fighters.”

These three pilots were lost in the following aircraft; recorded in the following Missing Air Crew Reports:

1 Lt. Voorhis H. Day, 62nd Fighter Squadron: P-47D 42-7891, LM * M, in MACR 264

1 Lt. Robert M. Stultz, 62nd Fighter Squadron: P-47C 41-6398, LM * H, Joan L. Sullivan, MACR 263

1 Lt. Arthur Sugas, 63rd Fighter Squadron: P-47C 41-6372, UN * S, MACR 265

Something a b o u t the loss of these pilots – three fighter planes and three men, versus sixty bombers and some six hundred men – reminded me of a literary trope not uncommonly found in association with works of literature (typically fiction, but not always fiction) related to military history, pertaining to losses, casualties, and the deaths of soldiers, as viewed through the vastly larger scope of any randomly chosen day’s events.  To the effect that, “Our losses were light today.  We only lost ‘so-and-so’ number of men.”  Maybe so, but not so “light” if you’re one of that number. 

And so, when I reviewed the portraits in the collection Photographic Prints of Air Cadets and Officers, Air Crew, and Notables in the History of Aviation – NARA RG 18-PU, at the United States National Archives, and discovered images of Day, Stultz, and Sugas, a bell of recognition rang quietly within my memory. 

So, these images appear below.  

I’ve included links to the three pilots’ biographical profiles at FindAGrave, and for Day and Stultz, have included images of the German Luftgaukommando Reports reporting the shoot-downs of their planes.  These reports aren’t the (perhaps?) more well-known “J Reports”, but instead AV (Amerikaner Vorgaenge [“American Incident”]) reports: AV 245 / 43 for Day, and, AV 374 / 43 for Stultz; there doesn’t seem to be one for Sugas.  I’ve also included several Buffalo city newspaper articles about Voorhis Day, found via Tom Tryniski’s Fulton.History website.    

Notably, the Wikipedia entry for the Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission mentions the loss of two Spitfires of Number 403 (RCAF) Squadron.  These aircraft, both Spitfire IXs, were on afternoon Ramrod 206 to Ghent, Belgium.  Aircraft MA615, piloted by F/Sgt. Graham Milton Shouldice, collided with aircraft LZ997, piloted by F/Lt. W.C. Conrad, DFC.  MA615 crashed into the sea, but Conrad was able to bail out successfully.  Evading capture, he returned to England via Spain by October 10, 1943.  Other Fighter Command losses that day were Mosquito VI HX826 of No. 25 Squadron (both crew POWs), Typhoon 1B DN553 of No. 182 Squadron (pilot killed), and a Spitfire IX of No. 341 Squadron (fate of pilot unknown). 

And so, the portraits. 

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First Lieutenant Voorhis H. Day

Voorhis H. Day, at FindAGrave

Amerikaner Vorgaenge (AV) Report AV 245 / 43

Note that at the time of the filing of this report, Voorhis was unidentified.

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Army Air Corps To Train Youth

Buffalo Courier Express

October 27, 1939

Old Newspapers

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Buffaloian Graduated From Army Air School

Buffalo Evening News

April 26, 1940

Digital Newspaper Archives of US & Canada

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Day-Zimmerman (wedding)

Buffalo Evening News

June 4, 1942

Digital Newspaper Archives of US & Canada

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4 From WNY Killed; Buffaloian Flying In Asia Shot Down

Buffalo Evening News

February 24, 1944

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In The Nation’s Service

by Betty Harries

Buffalo Evening News

April 1, 1944

Digital Newspaper Archives of US & Canada

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First Lieutenant Robert Mark Stultz

Robert M. Stultz, at FindaGrave

Amerikaner Vorgaenge (AV) Report 374 / 43

Note the English-language translation, below.

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First Lieutenant Arthur Sugas

MACR 265

While circling bombers over Ans approximately 30 FW 190’s made a head on attack on the bombers.  I was flying Postgate White 4, and Lt. Sugas, Postgate White 3.  Two FW-190s closed in on us at about 29,000 feet, and started firing.  I tried to contact Lt. Sugas over the R/T, but was unable to reach him.  I broke into the E/A and dove down.  This was the last I saw of Lt. Sugas.  I do not believe he followed me down.

George A. Compton

2nd Lt., A.C.

Arthur Sugas, at FindAGrave

References

Franks, Norman L.R., Royal Air Force Fighter Command Losses of the Second World War – Volume 2 – Operational Losses: Aircraft and Crews 1942-1943, Midland Publishing, Limited, Leicester, England, 1998

Middlebrook, Martin, The Schweinfurt-Regensburg Mission – American Raids on 17 August 1943, Penguin Books, London, England, 1985 (pp. 259-260)

Random Flights II: Aviators from NARA’s Photo Collection of Aviators – Hank Greenberg, Grover C. Hodge, Jr., Ben Kuroki, and Harvey J. Scandrett.  Plus, Eugene W. Roddenberry.

The “second” post comprises photos from NARA RG-18 PU, this time of specifically aviators who served in the United States Army Air Force of World War Two…  

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Hank Greenberg (Henry Benjamin Greenberg)

“Nicknamed “Hammerin’ Hank”, “Hankus Pankus”, or “The Hebrew Hammer”, was an American professional baseball player and team executive.  He played in Major League Baseball (MLB), primarily for the Detroit Tigers as a first baseman in the 1930s and 1940s.  A member of the Baseball Hall of Fame and a two-time Most Valuable Player (MVP) Award winner, he was one of the premier power hitters of his generation and is widely considered as one of the greatest sluggers in baseball history.  He had 47 months of military service including service in World War II, all of which took place during what would have been prime years in his major league career.”

A candid shot of Hank Greenberg in NARA RG-18 PU.

Here’s an official Army Air Force photo of Greenberg, image 69033AC (A2336).  Caption?  “Captain “Hank” Greenberg, famous baseball personality, pauses a minute before continuing through the chow line at a 14th Air Force base in China.”  The actual date of the photo is unknown, albeit text on the photo card states, “Orig. 4×5 neg rec’d 27 August 1946 from 14th Air Force thru AAF Historical Office.”  However, VintageDetroit states that Greenberg reenlisted in the Army seven weeks after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, “…accepting a position as a sergeant in the Army Air Force, and a few weeks later he finished officer training school and was commissioned a first lieutenant.  He stayed in the uniform of the United States military for the next three and a half years.  His last position was in the China/India/Burma Theater of Operations where he scouted bombing targets for B-29s.  In all, Greenberg served 47 months in the service during World War II, the longest tenure of any ballplayer.”

Hank Greenberg, at Wikipedia

Hank Greenberg, at FindAGrave

Baseball Reference

National Baseball Hall of Fame

Video

The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg, at Keith’s (Mr. Sports Historian) YouTube channel

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Grover Cleveland Hodge, Jr.

Of the five aviators whose images are presented in this post, the names of two – Hank Greenberg (above) and Gene Roddenberry (see below…) – are known to a lesser or greater degree by the general public, while knowledge of another – Ben Kuroki – is probably limited to WW II aviation buffs, historians of American aviation, and scholars of Japanese American history.  But, here’s a fourth personality – or much more aptly and succinctly phrased, a person – knowledge of whom is probably limited only to historians of aviation, those knowledgeable about Canadian history, and (especially?) students of wilderness exploration and outdoor survival: First Lt. Grover C. Hodge, Jr. 

Lt. Hodge was the pilot of B-26B Marauder 41-17862, otherwise known as “TIME’S AWASTIN”, an aircraft of the 440th Bomb Squadron of the 319th Bomb Group, which crashed near Saglek Bay, Labrador on December 10, 1942, during a planned flight from Narsarsuaq, Greenland to Goose Bay, Labrador.  The plane’s compliment of seven crewmen (including Hodge) survived the crash-landing entirely uninjured.  But alas, they did not survive. 

A few links to information about this story are given below.  

Grover C. Hodge, Jr., at FindAGrave

B-26B 41-17862, at Aviation Safety Network

Here’s the accident report for B-26B 41-17862: Accident Report 43-12-10-501.  Note that relatively little of the report focuses on the fate and experience of the crew between the time they crash-landed, and, their discovery by an Eskimo several months later.  Instead, most of the document is comprised of descriptions of flight activity on December 10, and, weather conditions.

Grover C. Hodge, Jr.’s Diary, at B-26.com

Saglek Airport, at Wikipedia

Crash in the Wilderness, at The DEWLine

Clarence Simonsen has done extensive research about the loss of 41-17862, his lengthy write-up exploring the event in great detail, with tact and sensitivity.  He presents the intriguing (and haunting) possibility that Janssen, Josephson, and Nolan may actually have survived their life-raft journey along the Labrador coast, landed in the vicinity of Nain, and hiked into the Canadian wilderness for an unknown distance.  Well, we’ll never know.  His essay about 41-17862 is Smilin’ Jack and the “Twin Engine Queenie”, while his blog is Preserving the Past II – 50 Years of Research About Aviation“)

Oyster, Harold E., and Oyster, Esther M., The 319th in Action (Records of the 319th Bombardment Group as Recorded by Lieutenant William B. Monroe, Jr., Public Relations Officer, and Others), 1976

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Here’s the Historical Record card for B-26B 41-17862.  The aircraft was received by the Army Air Force on August 24, 1942.

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Here are images of three of TIME’S AWASTIN’s crew members.  For those who already know this story (and others who have yet to become familiar with it), Janssen and Josephson (with Sgt. Charles F. Nolan, a passenger) left the crash site in the aircraft’s life raft on December 23, in search of help; in search of anything.  The three men – alluded to just above; their fate yet and perhaps forever unknown – were never seen again.  Their names are engraved upon the columns of the East Coast Memorial, in Manhattan.  

Co-Pilot: 2 Lt. Paul W. Janssen, at FindAGrave

Tribute page by Mrs. Bernice Ulrich, at National WW II Memorial

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Navigator (Bombardier): 1 Lt. Emanuel J. Josephson, at FindAGrave

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Gunner: Cpl. James J. Mangini, Jr, at FindAGrave

Corporal Mangini remained at the crash site with Lt. Hodge, Cpl. Galm (radio operator), and Sgt. Weyrauch (flight engineer).  

Tribute page by Mrs. Lorraine Suter, Cpl. Mangini’s sister, at National WW II Memorial

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Here are links to FindAGrave biographical profiles for the three crewman for whom photographs are unavailable:

Cpl. Frank L. Galm, at FindAGrave

Sgt. Charles F. Nolan, at FindaAGrave

Sergeant Russell Weyrauch, at FindAGrave

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The below image, probably taken by Lt. Josephson, shows three unknown aviators standing before an B-26, at an unknown location.  

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These two topographic maps, prepared by the Mapping and Charting Establishment, Canadian Department of National Defence (both 1968 editions) are (upper map) “Cape Uivak – Fish Island – Labrador North District (14L/7.8, Edition 2)”, Newfoundland, and (lower map) “Hebron – Labrador South District (14L/2, Edition 1)”, Newfoundland.  The scale of the maps is 1:50,000 and the contour interval 100 feet. 

Though I haven’t digitally “connected” images of he two maps to one another via Photoshop, you can see that the lower image, showing Hebron, is geographically continuous with and therefore cartographically “connected” to the upper image.  As such, what immediately stands out is that a fjord – the Iterungnek Fjord – lies between the peninsula where Hebron is situated (in the “lower” map) and the peninsula where Cape Saglek and Saglek Airport are situated (in the “upper” map), 41-17862’s crash location being in the vicinity of that present-day airport.

As is immediately obvious, though the straight-line “as the crow flies” distance between the Saglek Lighthouse, south-southeast to Hebron, is a little over 20 miles, that relatively short distance does not at all reflect the topography, the nature of the intervening terrain, or especially – when those two factors are weighed in combination – the obvious lack of any direct path between the crash site and Hebron.  Also, given the snow cover when 41-17862 crashed in mid-December, the safest (a very relative term) route between the crash site and Hebron would probably have involved following the highly irregular coastline east and south, along the Labrador Sea.  Even if this could have been done, such a journey would have entailed the crew hiking a distance far, far beyond a mere 20 miles, and finally, finding some way to cross the Iterungnek Fjord to reach – on the adjacent peninsula – the village of Hebron.

So, even in the very best of circumstances…  If the crew definitely knew their position; if they were all uninjured (well, they were uninjured to start; that’s true); if they were in good health (they seemed to have been in good health, to start); even if they had wilderness training and experience in outdoor survival during winter months in the Canadian North, the prospect of reaching Hebron – in the dead of winter over snow-covered terrain, or, along an icy coastline – would I think have been far more daunting than initially apparent from viewing small-scale maps of the area.

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Dating from November of 2010, here’s a song; a ballad – with kind of an air of Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (in which you know the outcome of the story beforehand, wish that the outcome would have been entirely different, yet are still “drawn” to the story by its haunting and symbolic nature…) about the crew of “TIME’S AWASTIN”, by Ellis Coles, at the YouTube channel of Traprocker123.  The song is based upon the diary kept by Grover Hodge from October 15, 1942 through February 3, 1943, while its title, “Diary of One Now Dead”, may (?), have been inspired by the title given to the diary transcript as published in The 319th in Action, in 1976, where Hodge’s diary comprises the final section of the book: “DIARY (BY ONE NOW DEAD).”

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Ben Kuroki

“The only American of Japanese descent in the United States Army Air Forces to serve in combat operations in the Pacific theater of World War II.  He flew a total of 58 combat missions over Europe, North Africa, and Japan during World War II.”

Here’s Ben Kuroki’s quite candid image in NARA RG 18-PU.

In 1985, Ben’s recollections of his experiences in the 20th Air Force appeared in Chester Marshall’s The Global Twentieth – An Anthology of the 20th AF in WW II.  A complete transcript of Kuroki’s essay, as well as its accompanying photo, showing Kuroki in the tail gunner’s position, follows…  

THE STORY OF DETERMINATION BY A JAPANESE-AMERICAN TAIL-GUNNER

By Ben Kuroki, Tail Gunner 484th Squadron, 505th Bomb Group

Preface

Ben Kuroki was the only Japanese-American to fly combat missions with the Army Air Force in the Pacific Theatre of War during World War II.  And he did it only by sheer determination and persistence – going all the way to the top to get permission.  A personal letter to him from Secretary of War Henry Stimson struck down the Air Force regulation prohibiting Japanese-Americans from flying combat missions in the Pacific thus allowing Ben to remain a B-29 crew member.

“Influential friends went to bat for me and I was granted an exception which allowed me to be accepted in the 505th Bomb Group as a tail gunner on a B-29,” Ben said.  “Army intelligence officers twice tried to remove me from my crew before we departed the U.S. for the Pacific, making it necessary for me to show my special letter from Secretary of War Stimson.”

In preparing this article, I asked Ben if we could publish the letter from the Secretary of War along with his story.  Ben replied: “Much to my dismay, I let my daughter use it in an art exhibit at the University of California at San Diego, and since then, we have not been able to find it.”

Chester Marshall

Here’s Ben’s story:

When I returned to the United States after completing thirty missions in B-24’s in the European Theatre, I was sent to Santa Monica, California for rest and recuperation.  Because of a few discriminatory actions against me soon after arriving there, I decided to go to any length to get into B-29’s and the Pacific War.

At Santa Monica I was asked to appear on an NBC radio program featuring the noted singer Jenny Simms.  My appearance was cancelled because NBC officials said the Japanese-American issue was too controversial.  Later, I was in Salt Lake City, and a man refused to share a taxi with me, saying, “I won’t ride with no damned Jap!”  This happened while I was in uniform and wearing the Distinguished Flying Cross with oak leaf cluster and other ribbons.

When my assignment came through placing me in the 48th Bomb Squadron, 505th Bomb Group, 313th Bomb Wing, I was a happy soldier again.  I was assigned to a B-29 crew as tail gunner.  After training at Harvard, Nebraska, we were scheduled to deploy to Tinian Island in the Marianas where we would join in the great air assault then in progress against the Japanese homeland.

Aerial combat was not new to me.  I had completed thirty missions – the twenty-five required plus five – as a tail gunner with the 409th Bomb Squadron of the 93rd Bomb Group in Europe.  The 93rd Group, the first B-24 Group to be stationed in England, was known as Ted Timberlake’s “Flying Circus.”  One of our toughest missions was the historic low-level attack on the Ploesti oil refineries in Romania.  That one still makes the hair rise on the back of my neck!

For my upcoming Pacific tour, I was assigned to Crew Number 84-10 as tail gunner.  Other members of my crew were: 1st Lieutenant James Jenkins, airplane commander; 1st Lieutenant Harold B. Wilson, pilot; 1st Lieutenant Joseph Pope, navigator; 2nd Lieutenant Kenneth Neill, bombardier; M/Sergeant Paul Hughes, flight engineer; S/Sergeant Warren Sheck, radioman; Sergeant William Shaffer, radarman; S/Sergeant Bernard Endler, central fire control; Sergeant Jerome Karnoff, right gunner; and Sergeant Leroy Kirkpatrick, left gunner.

We named our plane “The Honorable Sad Saki,” which was a sort of take off on the names of the “Sad Sack” cartoon character and a Japanese drink.

My most unforgettable experience came soon after we landed in Tinian.  The ground crews had arrived on the island earlier, and rumors were rampant of enemy stragglers infiltrating the camp.  Few of our GIs had previously been in combat, and they were extremely trigger happy.  After dark they would open up with their carbines and rifles at the slightest noise, sending bullets whizzing all around the camp.  The next day they would find dead pigs and other domestic animals that belonged to the natives.  These animals, crunching around in the nearby cane fields, triggered a lot of gunfire from our “protectors” and caused us to fear for our lives.  Since I was of Japanese ancestry, I was so worried that one of the trigger happy GIs would take a shot at me that I was afraid to even go to the latrine after dark, preferring to anxiously wait for the sun to rise.  I felt that I deserved the Purple Heart for bladder damage!

The rumors also indicated that some enemy stragglers were wearing GI uniforms so I stuck real close to my other crew members – even in chow lines during the day.

During the first couple of weeks when the trigger-happiness was at its worst, I actually felt safer when I was flying combat missions over enemy targets.  Although the Japanese anti-aircraft fire and fighter opposition were lighter than I had encountered over Europe, no mission was a milk run.  When my buddies kidded me about being my bodyguards back at the base, I sorta got even when we were airborne by joking, “You guys had better be good to me, because if we get shot down, you’ll need my help.  I’ll even bring you rice and fish heads.”

Ben and his crew completed 35 missions against the Japanese homeland making him one of the elite few who accomplished the feat of completing a combat tour of duty in both the European Theater of operation and the Pacific Theater of operation.

Here’s Ben Kuroki in Army Air Force photo +58171AC (A39047):  JAPANESE “AMERICAN TAIL GUNNER OVER TOKYO – American born Japanese T/Sgt. Ben Kuroki, Hershey, Nebraska, a tail gunner with 30 ETO missions, is interviewed on Tinian after completing his 27th mission in the Pacific, by T/Sgt. Hal Brown, Bakersfield, Calif., combat photographer for Gen. H.H. Arnold’s official Army Air Forces weekly radio show, “The Fighting AAF”.  Kuroki wears Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air medal with four Oak Leaf Clusters.”

Ben Kuroki, at Wikipedia

Ben Kuroki’s Family Tree

Ben Kuroki, at FindAGrave

Air and Space

American Air Museum in Britain

Ben Kuroki’s Bloot Chit, at National Museum of American History (Behring Center)

And, Chester Marshall’s book…

Marshall, Chester, The Global Twentieth – An Anthology of the 20th AF in WW II, Apollo Books, Winona, Mn., 1985

Here’s a snippet of what is (presumably?!) a much lengthier interview of Ben Kuroki, via the National Japanese American Historical Society.

________________________________________

Gene Roddenberry (Eugene Wesley Roddenberry)

“Television screenwriter, producer and creator of Star Trek: The Original Series, and its sequel spin-off series Star Trek: The Animated Series and Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

Gene Roddenberry, long before the advent of Star Trek, in his photographic portrait from NARA RG-18 PU Note the white-ink label at the bottom of the photo with the abbreviation “(42-G) KF”.  Though I think (?) that would imply graduation from Class 42-G at Kelly Field, Roddenberry actually graduated with Class 42-G at Goodfellow Field, San Angelo, Tx. …

…  and, via Army Air Forces Collection, here’s the front cover of his class graduation book, CAVU, Class 42-G, Goodfellow Field, San Angelo, Tx. …

… where his portrait appears on page 69.  

As described at Pacific Wrecks, Roddenberry served in the Southwest Pacific with 394th Bomb Squadron of the 5th Bomb Group, eventually retiring from the military with the rank of Captain. 

On August 2, 1943 he piloted a B-17E Flying Fortress – 41-2463, “Yankee Doodle” – which crashed on takeoff from Guadalcanal or Espiritu Santo, with the loss of two crew members, Sgt. John P. Krueger and navigator 1 Lt. Talbert H. Wollam.  The aircraft can be seen below in Army Air Photo Photo 22847AC (A45620).  Caption follows:

“B-17E – “Yankee Doodle”

“Members of a heavy bombardment squadron in the South Pacific have a novel method of chalking up their victories.  On the noses of their B-17s they paint Jap flags to indicate planes shot down.  Some have downed as many as 15 zeros.

Miniature destroyers or cruisers or transports signify a ship of that class officially sunk.  The torpedoes indicate the number of striking missions in which the plane has had a part.  A striking mission in the combat area is an attack on a specific enemy target.

Standing under the nose of their Flying Fortress, these two men [names unknown] of the ground crew pause to pose for the Army photographer in the South Pacific.  These men are extremely proud of their planes and their victories.  Note the string of shells for the machine gun in the nose.”

“Rec’d 1/9/43 thru Director of Photography from South Pacific Theater.  Copied 2/16/43.”  

Gene Roddenberry, at Wikipedia

Gene Roddenberry, at FindAGrave

Pacific Wrecks

B-17E 41-2463 – 13th Air Force, 5th Bomb Group, 394th Bomb Squadron, (Lost August 2, 1943)

Roddenberry.com

Talking About Gene Roddenberry, at Television Academy Foundation

Internet Movie Database

Memory Alpha Fandom

Internet Speculative Fiction Database

________________________________________

Harvey Jackson Scandrett

“The sun glinted off the fuselages of the silvery Mustangs and from my vantage point, they seemed to stretch to the horizon to the front and sides of me.  Between 350-400 miles north of Iwo we ran into a gigantic weather front with a solid squall line of cumulonimbus clouds blocking our path.  These immense thunder-heads were too high for us to surmount.  After we had circled for some time looking for holes without finding a trace of any, I heard Col. Scandrett say over the radio “Proceed with the mission; I take full responsibility.”  At this my heart stopped and I know that I was not alone.”

“I realize now that Scandrett had to make a difficult decision without benefit of accurate weather information.  He gambled and lost everything.” – Leonard A. Dietz, July 6, 1986

Enlisted in the United States Air Force in 1940, graduating from Randolph Field as a fighter pilot.  By 1945, commander of the Headquarters Squadron (Deputy Group Commander) of the 506th Fighter Group.  On June 1, 1945, commander of the three 7th Air Force Fighter Groups (15th, 21st, and 506th) assigned for B-29 Superfortress escort mission to Osaka, Japan.  One of the 24 7th Air Force P-51 pilots lost that day.

One of the links below will take you to a PDF with the names of the 24 pilots lost on this mission, as well as the three other pilots who – having parachuted over the Pacific Ocean – were rescued.  The list also includes aircraft serial numbers and MACR numbers for the aircraft flown by the 24 pilots who didn’t survive.  The only similar incident that I’m aware of from the European Theater involved the loss of eleven P-51B Mustangs and pilots – no survivors – of the 363rd Fighter Group (five from the 381st Fighter Squadron, and six from the 382nd) over the English Channel on March 4, 1944, almost certainly caused by a combination of pilot inexperience and (very) bad weather. 

Regarding 7th Air Force P-51 losses on the June 1, 1945, mission, unfortunately, aircraft nicknames and plane-in-squadron numbers are known for only a few of these P-51s (and this, it seems, only from private photographs!), for MACRs filed for 7th Air Force fighter losses did not record such information.  To be specific, the “space” for aircraft nicknames in such MACRs doesn’t include the individual planes’ actual hand-painted-and-sometimes nose-arted nicknames, the simple and generic word “Mustang” appearing in that data field instead. (?!?)      

Missing Air Crew Report 14653

Harvey J. Scandrett, at FindAGrave

Harvey J. Scandrett, at Pacific Wrecks

7th Air Force P-51D Pilot Losses – June 1, 1945

P-51D 44-72607, Madam Wham-Dam / 550 – 7th Air Force, 506th Fighter Group, 458th Fighter Squadron (Lost June 1, 1945), at Pacific Wrecks

506th Fighter Group – Iwo to Japan

506th Fighter Group – 1 June 1945 Black Friday

A book!  (A good book, at that…)

Lambert, John W., The Long Campaign – The History of the 15th Fighter Group in World War II, Sunflower University Press, Manhattan, Ks., 1982 (see pages 121-126)

A magazine (…from years ago…)

Blake, Steve, “The 363rd Fighter Group in WW II – Part I”, Fighter Pilots in Aerial Combat, Summer, 1982, Number 5 (pp. 15-22)

A Path in the Sky: A Navigator’s Log from a Downed B-17 [Revised post…]

[And now, the post is “new and improved”!…

When I created this post in late 2016 (has it been that long?!) its “raison d’être” was to display images of an aerial navigation log from a 15th Air Force B-17 Flying Fortress that crash-landed in Poland on December 26, 1944.

That purpose, in this now-updated post, remains much the same.  But, with a difference.  Though the initial version of the post featured black & white images of the navigation log – those images having made from reduced-size photocopied scans of the log – this updated version features full-size “first generation” color scans of the log, which I found by searching the website of the United States National Archives (NARA).

As such, these NARA 300 dpi scans present the log in its near-original color (which I well remember from physically examining the document during a visit to NARA some years ago!), and better resolution than the scans of the black & white paper photocopies originally featured in this post.

So, if you’ve visited this post before, you’ll see the new images below. 

If you’re new here, you’ll see these NARA scans for the first time. 

In either case, the scans of these documents (and two other scans) provide a fascinating view into a little remarked-upon (well, not nearly as dramatic as fighter planes) aspect of WW II military aviation: Navigation.  Getting “there”.  And, getting “back” again.  

Specifically, the new items comprise two scans from Luftgaukommando Report ME 2620, which are typical of documents that can often – not always, but pretty often – be found incorporated within MACRs for aircraft of the USAAF 8th, 9th, 12th, and 15th Air Forces, specifically lost over the European mainland: Crew lists, composed by the Germans, after individual aviators had been captured and / or identified, with their names correlated to a specific aircraft and crew.  The heading of the “first” document is “Meldung über den Abschuss eines US-Amerikanisch Flugzeuges” (Report about the downing of an American airplane).  The “second” document is an abbreviated version of the crew list, and includes specific information about the plane in question (“…337”) and crew positions of each aviator.]  

In prior posts, I presented photographs from German Luftgaukommando Reports – in the United States National Archives – concerning a P-51D Mustang fighter, and, a B-17G Flying Fortress, which were lost in combat missions over Germany in late 1944.  For the former, a series of technical intelligence photographs taken by the Germans upon recovery of the crash-landed fighter.  For the latter, a remarkable “in-plane” / “in-flight” photograph carried by and captured from one of the B-17’s crewmen.

This post – covering another Luftgaukommando Report – is a little different, for it shows a find of a different sort:  An intact and complete Air Corps Navigator’s Log retrieved from a crash-landed Flying Fortress, which has survived in much the same condition as when the last notations were recorded upon it a little over 72 years ago.

The story behind the Log?

It began at 8:03 A.M. on Tuesday, December 26, 1944, when B-17G 44-6337, Kandy, of the 32nd Bomb Squadron, 301st Bomb group, piloted by 1 Lt. Harry Owen Filer, departed for a mission to the oil refinery complex at Blechhammer South, Germany.

Missing Air Crew Report 10746 carries three accounts of the plane’s disappearance.

     1 Lt. Charles A. Dews, navigator, reported, “Right after bombs away, Plane No. 6337 started falling back from formation.  Number 3 or 4 engine had been hit by enemy flak.  My pilot reported that it was losing altitude and that either smoke or gas vapor was coming from 3 or 4 engine.  Just before we rallied at Ciezyn we lost sight of 6337 who was lagging back and losing altitude but under control.  We last saw Plane No. 6337 at 1250 hours, 26 December, 1944, location of 50/01 N – 18/27 E.  The weather was CAVU and no chutes were seen.

     Another navigator, 2 Lt. Joseph I. Laird, recounted, “Just after we dropped our bombs on the target, I noticed #4 engine smoking on Plane No. 6337.  The plane peeled out of formation taking a heading of 45 degrees and slid down to the left smoothly, losing altitude but under control.  The #4 engine was probably hit by flak over the target.  The plane dropped back from the formation but was still under control when I last saw it at 1250 hours, 26 December, 1844.  It was at 50/01 N – 18/27 E, the weather was CAVU and no chutes were seen.

     Tail gunner S/Sgt. Harry P. Hale described the following: “Shortly after bombs away, Plane No. 6337 fell out of formation, losing altitude and dropping back.  Smoke was coming from either No. 3 or 4 engine which was apparently hit by flak encountered over target.  The plane seemed to be under control when I last saw it at 1250 hours, 26 December, 1944, and saw no one bail out.  The weather was CAVU and our Navigator gave the coordinates of 50/01 N – 18/27 E when I last reported seeing aircraft No. 6337.

As in many Missing Air Crew Reports, eyewitness statements account for the plane’s loss only up to the time it disappeared.  But, as in (also) many other Missing Air Crew Reports, an explanation of the plane’s loss is presented in postwar Casualty Questionnaires.  In Kandy’s case, these were filed by pilot Harry Filer, navigator Gilbert Nesch, and radio operator Earle Cochrane.   

The following is a summary of information in the Questionnaires:  The plane was struck by flak, and left formation while southeast of the target, shortly after 12 noon.  Not long after, Kandy was crash-landed near Krakow, Poland.  The entire crew survived uninjured and were captured, all returning to the United States after the war’s end.

Some decades later, co-pilot Alfred Cryer’s brief account of the plane’s loss has now appeared at the website of the 301st Bomb Group, under the heading “My First Mission“, giving the story of the plane’s loss “from the cockpit”:

The crew that I was flying with, the day I was shot down, was not my crew.  It was my first mission and I guess it was a crew made up from the pool.  The reason we came down near Krakow, Poland was we were heading to a field in Russia.  On the second bomb run on the target our ship and the lead ship were hit by anti-aircraft fire.  We took hits in the number two and number four engines.  Orders were if you were not able to make it back to Italy, you could try for this field in Russia.  Our navigator told us when we should be able to see the field, after making a couple of circles and not seeing a field we decided a wheels up crash-landing was the way to go.  Only it was occupied Poland, about 35 miles from the front lines.

The names of the crew, their next of kin, and their wartime home addresses – derived from information in the MACR, and the Luftgaukommando Report – follow below:

Pilot: 1 Lt. Harry Owen Filer
Mrs. Alice B. Filer (wife), 510 NE 56th St., Miami, Fl.


Co-Pilot
: 2 Lt. Alfred James Cryer (Born in Illinois, in 1922)

Mrs. Gladys M. Cryer (wife), 141 South Prairie St., Batavia, Il.

This portrait of Lieutenant Cryer, added by researcher Kathy, is from his FindAGrave biographical profile.

Navigator: 2 Lt. Gilbert Theodore Nesch (Born December 6, 1917)
Mr. Frank F. Nesch (father), 1105 Yout St., Racine, Wi.

Togglier
: T/Sgt. William Eugene Nassif (Born April 2, 1922)

Mr. Otto Nassif (father), 613 40th Avenue North, Fargo, N.D.
Mrs. Bessie Nassif (mother), Pollock, S.D.


Flight Engineer
: T/Sgt. Ernest Mario Anticola (Born 1921)

Mr. Natale Anticola (father), 564 Hopkins St., Buffalo, N.Y.

Radio Operator: T/Sgt. Earle James Cochrane
Mrs. Kathleen G. Cochrane (wife)
Mrs. Blanche E. Haislip (mother), 49 Oak Ridge Ave., Schoolfield, Va.

Gunner (Ball Turret):
S/Sgt. Edward Anthony Codo (Born June 30, 1925)

Mr. Edward C. Codo (father), 213 Sherman St., Joliet, Il.

Gunner (Waist)
: S/Sgt. Philip Shlom (Born 1922)

Mrs. Marion V. Shlom (wife), 3435 Richton St., Apt. 112, Detroit, Mi.
Mrs. Libby Shlom (mother), 2017 Clairmount Ave., Detroit, Mi.


Gunner (Waist)
: S/Sgt. Franklin Junior Elmen (Born 1915)

Mrs. Hazel B. Elmen (wife), 1112 Spruce St., Leavenworth, Ks.
Mr. Walter F. Elmen (father), 1315 South State St., Salt Lake City, Ut.

Gunner (Tail)
: S/Sgt. Patrick Marvin Nicks (Born 1925)

Mrs. Margurite Goeden (mother), South 523 Washington St., Spokane, Wa.

Here are some pages from the MACR for 44-6337…

First page of MACR 10746: Information about the crew and plane, and summary of data about the circumstances of its loss.

A map of the plane’s last reported position.

Crew roster, another (usually) standard document in MACRs covering multi-place aircraft.

____________________

Oogle Map showing southeastern Germany, Czechia and Slovakia (then Czechoslovakia) and southern Poland, with Oogle’s red position indicator superimposed on Krakow.

Southern Poland, zooming in on Krakow.

The southern part of Krakow.

Oogling even closer…  The plane was crash-landed somewhere in the vicinity of the communities of Kobierzyn and (Lagiewniki) Borek-Falecki, shown in the right-center portion of this map.

____________________

Remarkably, at the website of the Polish Aviation Museum a photo (actually, a composite of three photos) exists of the crash-landed B-17.  The same image – and much more – can be found at the “intheair” website, which features extensive information about contemporary interest by the local community (most recently as of January, 2016) in the history of Kandy’s loss. 

____________________

“Meldung über den Abschuss eines US-Amerikanisch Flugzeuges” (Report about the downing of an American airplane)    

Abbreviated report.  Given the absence of first-name information for three crew members, this document was presumably completed prior to the report above, which itself was completed on January 9, 1945, fourteen days after the crash-landing of 44-6337.  

But, what of the Navigation Log?

Rectangular in format, the dimensions of the Log are 20″ by 26″.  The upper half is subdivided into two rectangular areas of roughly equal size (which I’ve dubbed the “first” and “second” sections), while the lower half (which I’ve dubbed the “third section”) has the general format of a spreadsheet. 

So, here’s the log in its “fullness”.  It’s pretty big: 7,900 by 6,200 pixels.

____________________

The “first” section of the Log (13″ x 10″) covers:

Information about the plane, date of mission, and target.
Mission Orders
Weather (General Forecast)
Flight Plan
Flight Crew
Winds
Memoranda

This section appears below:

Here’s the first section, as a scan from a paper photocopy:

Here are highlights of the information that Lt. Nesch recorded in this section of the Log:

Plane Number (last three digits of serial): 337
Plane Type: B-17G
Date: 26 Dec 1944
Place of Departure: Base
Destination: Bleichammer [sic] South

Mission Orders

Target: Bleichammer [sic] South
IP (Initial Point): Jagendorf
Axis: 060
Rally: Right
Guns (anti-aircraft at target): 153
Weather (General Forecast) (lots of data recorded here…)
Latitude / Longitude
Dist: Distance (elapsed)
TC: True Course
TH / MH: True Heading / Magnetic Heading
Alt / Temp: Altitude / Temperature
IAS / TAS: Indicated Airspeed / True Airspeed
GS: Ground Speed
Time: Time of record

Flight Crew

P – Filer – 1 Lt.
CP – Cryer – 2 Lt.
N – Nesch – 2 Lt.
B – Nassif – T/Sgt.
E – Anticola – T/Sgt.
R – Cochrane – T/Sgt.
BT – Codo – S/Sgt.
WG – Schlom [sic] – S/Sgt.
TG – Nicks – S/Sgt.
WG – Elmen – S/Sgt.

Winds

Memoranda

Flak: Csehi, Gor, Bratislava
Fighters: 50-80 Vienna, 40-50 Target, 120-130 Total
Escort
50 P-51s
66 P-51s    49-35, 17-43    12:56
60 P-51s    49-28, 18-00    12:50
Station: 0730
Takeoff: 0800
Rend (Rendezvous): 0857
Target: 1245
ETR (Estimated Time of Return): 1540
(other notes)
Mielec 50-19, 21-48
Rzeszow 50-07, 22-03
12 – 500 RDX (bomb load)

____________________

The “second section” (12 1/2″ x 10″) covers:

Celestial Data
Fuel Consumption
Colors of Day
Memoranda
Radio Bearings

This section of the Log also includes pre-printed formulas and geometric reminders for calculating Interception, and, radius of action, and also conversion scales for temperature (C / F), and, barometric pressure (millibars / inches).

Here’s the second section:

And, here’s how this document appeared in the “original” version of this post:

Here are highlights of the information that Lt. Nesch recorded in this section of the Log:

Celestial Data

No such data is actually recorded!  Instead, under the heading “Charts“, appears a list of aerial navigation maps carried aboard Kandy.  These covered Naples, Chieti, and Fiume (Italy), Graz and Vienna (Austria), “Taby” [sp?], and, Krakow (Poland).

Fuel Consumption (lots of data recorded here…)

Colors of Day:
GRR (probably green-red-red)
YY (likely yellow-yellow)
RGG (presumably red-green-green)

Memoranda
Wing: C
Group: B
Bomber: Schoolroom #1
Escort: Rubbish
Recall: Frontier
Weather (nil)
Lake Lesina 0857 3500′
KP Split 0944 1100

____________________

The third section (26″ x 10″) occupies the “bottom” half of the Log, and in tabular format, provides fields for entry of data relevant to aerial navigation, as the mission progressed.  The fields comprise the following:

Aircraft position (Latitude / Longitude)
Time
True Course
Drift Correction
True Heading
Variation
Magnetic Heading
Deviation Correction
Compass Heading
Temperature (Celsius!)
Airspeed (Indicated, Calculated, and True)
Winds
Ground Speed
“Run” (?)
“To Next Check Point” (Distance, Time, and Estimated Time of Arrival)
Meteorological Observations (Weather, Visibility, and Clouds)

An area to the right of these entries, entitled “Remarks”, allows the navigator to write notes about significant events as the mission progressed.  A scan of this section is presented below:

Here’s the original image from the paper photocopy:

A transcription of the above notes follows:

ENGINES STARTED: 0803 (handwritten note at top of log)

ENGINES STOPPED: (…no entry would ever be made…)

08:57  GP. REND. 1 MILE WEST OF RD PT.  0903 HEADED EAST ALONG COAST, AT 48-07 N, 15-30 E (altitude 4000)

09:15  TAKING UP HEADING FOR SPLIT (altitude 9000)

11:32:  LIGHT FLAK 47-43 N, 17-42 E (altitude 21000)

12:00:  CIRCLING IP MADE 360 TURN  JUST WEST OF IP. (altitude 24000)

12:29:  OILFIRES FROM PREV. WAVE.  BOMBS AWAY  SMOKE SCREEN, BARRAGE TYPE FAIRLY HEAVY (altitude 25000)

____________________

Another document in Luftgaukommando Report ME 2620, not shown in the earlier version of this post, is this combination Flight Log / Flight Plan of a much simpler format.  Though the sheet has tables and data fields on both sides, it’s obvious that Lieutenant Nesch only utilized one side; specifically to record flight plan and mission data.  Notice that unlike the Flight Log, the Flight Plan includes data fields for geographic locations, latitude and longitude information.  Notice Lt. Nesch’s arithmetic calculations on the right.  

Here’s the “blank” side of the document.  

____________________

Corroborating and reflecting the information in the Navigator’s Log is Luftgaukommando Report (KSU / ME 2620), a translated page of which – from the MACR – is shown below:

As listed above, the following material was retrieved from the aircraft:

1 folder-form with course calculation (Navigator’s Log)
1 radio key
1 plane instructions
1 package with optical lenses
1 radio handbook
2 sheets of radio instructions (secret)
1 (aerial)?) map of each of following cities: Chieti, Vienna, “Naples, Krakau” (Krakow), Taby (?), “Graz” (Gratz), and Fiume.  This list is identical to the list of maps in the Navigator’s Log.

Of the above items, the only material that was actually retained to become part of the Luftgaukommando Report was the Navigator’s Log.  This is consistent with Luftgaukmmando Reports covering American heavy bombers, which may list all manner documents and material (such as cameras, electronic, and navigation equipment) salvaged from downed warplanes, where – upon examining the actual Luftgaukommando Report – such items are unsurprisingly (!) not present.  I would suppose this was due to the sheer physical size and weight of these items, and, the probability that they were analyzed (if not disassembled?) for intelligence purposes.  Above all, (im)practically speaking, a B-17 pilot’s manual, the manual for a BC-348 radio, or a reflector gunsight, cannot readily be stuffed into an 8 1/2″ x 10″ file folder!

Thus, what is present in Luftgaukommando Reports – at least sometimes – are letters (V-Mail and handwritten), dog-tags, and personal documents (such as driver’s licenses, military “calling cards”, or Officer’s Identification Cards), and – in rare instances, like this – a Navigator’s Log. 

Items that, given the anonymity and chaos of war, are striking reminders of the very human side of history.   

So, though Lt. Nesch reported that Kandy’s engines were started at 8:03 in the morning, but never quite had the opportunity to record the return of his crew to Lucera, Italy, at least they did return, albeit some months later. 

As did his log, which seven decades later exists as a reminder of a war ended long ago. 

Mission, complete. 

________________________________________

December 6, 2016

May 18, 2017

May 20, 2021

 

Random Flights I: Aviators from NARA’s Photo Collection of Aviators – Paul F. Baer, Italo Balbo, Amelia M. Earhart, Anthony Fokker, Ployer P. Hill, Ruth R. Nichols, Philip A.G.D Sassoon, and Lawrence B. Sperry

Proud
pilots
photographed
professionally –

– pictures
preserved
in perpetuity?

(Possibly. (Possibly.))

A particular aspect of this blog being historical photography, one of my first posts – Five Pilots in December: Photographic Portraits of American Fighter Pilots Who Lost Their Lives at Pearl Harbor – dating from November of 2016 (gadzooks, has it been that long?!) focused (* no pun intended *) on photographic portraits of Army Air Corps pursuit pilots  Samuel W. Bishop, Hans C. Christiansen, John L. Dains, Gordon H. Sterling, Jr., and George A. Whiteman.  The five images featured in that post are among the many, many such images in the collection Photographic Prints of Air Cadets and Officers, Air Crew, and Notables in the History of Aviation – NARA RG 18-PU, at the United States National Archives.

Though the overwhelming majority of these portraits and images in that collection directly pertain to members of the United States Army Air Service, the United States Army Air Corps, and its successor, the United States Army Air Forces, a few of these images are of personalities in aviation history who are either American civilians, or (even fewer in number) citizens of other countries, who had interaction with or relation to American aviation, or who were simply prominent in the field of aeronautics, per se.  As such, “this” post displays images of the following aviators: First Lieutenant Paul F. Baer, Marshal Italo Balbo, Anthony Fokker, Major Ployer P. Hill, Ruth R. Nichols and Amelia Earhart, Philip A.G.D. Sassoon, and Lawrence B. Sperry.  More such posts will follow.

Given the prominence of these individual in the field of aviation – let alone history in general for Fokker and Earhart – and the abundance of information about them, I’ve decided not to “reinvent the wheel” and write lengthy essays about them, recreating what’s been written previously.  Rather, each image is simply followed by links to relevant sources of information.  These references are primarily Wikipedia (yeah, I know, I know … it’s Wikipedia, but still, you can find valid information there) and FindAGrave, the latter site often featuring valuable genealogical information and photos.  The photographs of Frank F. Baer and Ployer P. Hill are supplemented by images of newspaper articles, while the portraits of Balbo, Nichols, and Sassoon feature videos.

I hope you find these images interesting. 

More to follow!

____________________________________

First Lieutenant Paul Frank Baer

“American World War I flying ace credited with nine confirmed victories and seven unconfirmed victory claims.  He was the first ace flying for [specifically] American military aviation.  He also scored the initial victory for an American military unit.”

____________________

Here’s a document about Paul Baer’s military training and service in the Service Aéronautique of the French Army during World War I.  The document can be found at the Database of Military aircraft personnel for WW I, within the Database of navigators and ground personnel of the air force during the Great War, of the SGA (Secretary General for Administration), at – Mémoire des hommes – Portail Culturel du Ministere Des Armees.  (“Memory of men – Cultural Portal of the Ministry of the Armed Forces”).  

The Illustrated Daily News

September 27, 1919

____________________

Body of Ft. Wayne War Ace Arrives Home From China

The Muncie Morning Star

December 31, 1930

____________________

Bury World War Ace at Ft. Wayne Today

The Muncie Morning Star

January 3, 1931

____________________

Last Rites for American Pilot This Afternoon

Following Services At Chapel Body Starts Journey to France

The China Press

December 11, 1930

Full military honors will be paid today at 3 p.m. to Pilot Paul F Baer, American aviator and a distinguished member of the famous Lafayette Esquadrille, who met his untimely death Tuesday morning when the Hankow plane of the China National Aviation Corporation crashed into the mast of a junk.

Shanghai military units will say their last goodbye to an honorary soldier in the form of guard of honor contingent of French troops, ordered out of the French commandant delegation from the Royal Air Force Association and the American Legion.

The body is now lying in state, draped with the flags of three nations, at the International Funeral Directors’ Establishment, 71 Kiaochow road.

High officials of foreign and native military forces will pay their last respects to the gallant aviator this afternoon.  After the funeral the body will be taken aboard the President McKinley, which will convey Pilot Baer on the first leg of his journey to his last resting place.

LAST RESTING PLACE

The body will be taken to Fort Wayne, Ind., where friends and relatives will pay respects before it travels to Versailles near Paris.  There the Lafayette Memorial will lay claim to Pilot Baer, wherein a permanent niche has been awaiting him since his release from the Lafayette Esquadrille.  The Memorial has a tomb for every member of the Esquadrille, and only a few of these still remain unoccupied.  One of the surviving members of the famous fighting group.  Mr. Bert Hall, author of the book “One Man’s War,” is in Shanghai at present.

Baer, ranking No. 4 in the Esquadrille, was showered with all the honors the French Government could confer upon him.  He was also decorated by the United States.  The aviator possessed the Distinguished Service Cross, with Bronze Oak Leaf; Legion d’Honneur, and Croix de Guerre with seven Palms.
Pilot Baer, a daring and fearless fighter, was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana.  He was commissioned First Lieutenant in United States Aviation, November 5, 1917, and was soaring over the roaring cannon at the front from February 18 to May 22, 1918, flying for the 103rd Pursuit Squadron.  On May 22 he was shot down and wounded in combat, and from that time was held a prisoner in Germany until the Armistice was signed.

FLEW SPAD 80

Enlisting in the French Aviation Service February 20, 1917, Baer was in the French aviation schools until August 12 of that year, when he was given a Spad 80 and started his maneuvers at the front.  He fought for the French until January 14, 1918, and during that time brought down nine enemy planes.  Baer showed such daring and skill in all his combats that France conferred numerous honors upon him.

During his service in United States Aviation at the front, the D.S.C. was given him by command of General Pershing, for bravery in March, 1918.

Baer, alone attacked a group of seven enemy pursuit machines, destroying one which crashed to the ground near the French lines.

____________________

Impressive Tribute Paid Distinguished Airman In Military Rite Yesterday

United States Marines Present For Funeral Of Pilot Paul F. Baer, Victim Of Air Crash Here On Tuesday

The China Press

December 12, 1930

In a simple but impressive manner Shanghai yesterday paid a final tribute to the distinguished airman, Pilot Paul F. Baer, American aviator and ranking member of the famous Lafayette Esquadrille, who crashed to his death here Tuesday morning when the Hankow plane of the China National Aviation Company failed to gain altitude and was cracked up.

Funeral services for the ill-fated aviator, at the International Funeral Directors were attended by [company] of United States Marines as well as numerous French officials.  The Rev. Emory Luccock was the minister in charge.

Following the playing of “Nearer My God to Thee,” by the military band.  Rev. Luccock delivered a brief euology over the bier.  Three volleys from the firing squad followed.  “Lead Kindly Light” was the second and final rendition by the band.

FLYER BEARERS

Pall bearers were made up entirely of fellow airman including Mr. Bert Hall, one of the few surviving members of the famous French squadron.  The others, all of the China National Aviation Company, are: M.S. Halin, H.G. Smith, M. Hamilton, James Hayden and M. Hamill.  Captain Lawson was in command of the marine company.

Although little information is available here concerning Baer’s relatives, he is believed to be survived only by his mother, Mrs. Emma Shroyer of Fort Wayne, Indiana.

The casket was draped with an American flag on all sides by numerous floral wreaths.  Indicating high regard on the part of his flying colleagues, many of these came from those who had soared through the clouds with Pilot Baer.  Included among the large wreaths were those from the Pilots of the China National Aviation Company, the Mechanics of the C.N.A.C., the Royal Air Force of China, United Services Association of the Great War.

TO FRANCE

From the funeral parlor the body of Pilot Baer was removed late yesterday to be placed aboard the President McKinley, which will convey the airman on the first leg of his last journey.  The body will be taken to Fort Wayne, Ind., where relatives and friends will pay respects before it is carried on to Versailles, France.  There Pilot Baer will find his final resting place in the Lafayette Memorial, where a niche has been reserved for him as a result of his distinguished war service.  The Memorial has a tomb for every member of the Esquadrille. 

During and after hostilities in the Great War, Pilot Baer was showered with honors by both America and France.  High decorations came from both governments including the Distinguished Service Cross, with Bronze Oak Leaf, the Legion of Honor and the Croix de Guerre, with seven palms.  He ranked No. 4 in the Lafayette Esquadrille.

Following his services with the French, Pilot Baer fought with the American air forces on the Western Front.  He was awarded the D.S.C. by command of General Pershing, for bravery in March, 1918.  He attacked a group of enemy planes while flying alone over the French lines.  Fire from his guns brought down one of the German planes.  On March 15, bare attacked two enemy planes, sending one of the pair to the ground in flames.

FROM FT. WAYNE

Baer was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana.  He was commissioned First Lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force, November 5, 1917, and by the following February he was in the thick of the fighting in France as a member of the 103rd Pursuit Squadron.  On May 22, 1918 he was shot down and wounded during combat.  From that time on until the Armistice was signed in November, he was a prisoner in Germany.

In addition to the wreaths from the close association of Pilot Baer were a large number bearing the names of prominent institutions and individuals.  The complete list of wreaths which decked the casket follows:  China National Aviation Company, Anciens Combattants Francais, United Services Association of the Great War (1914-1918), Royal Air Force Association of Shanghai, Association Nazionale Combattenti, Les Aviateurs Francaise de Shanghai, American Legion, Shanghai, General Frederick Townsend Ward Post No. 1, Pilots of the C.N.A.C., Mechanics of the C.N.A.C., Nan and Blanche, Officers and men of the 4th U.S. Marines, American Foreign Insurance Association, Standard Oil Company of New York, Amicale des Anciens Combattants Francaise, Douglas Jenkins, Mrs. Douglas Jenkins, H.B. Longfelloy, the S.E. Gale Company, The Staff of the Young Men’s Christian Association, Louis Ladow, Mr. and Mrs. E. Tollefsen, George Sellett, Mr. and Mrs. W.W. Ritchie, Alfred Pandely Patterson and numerous Chinese friends. 

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Paul F. Baer, at Wikipedia

Paul F. Baer, at FindAGrave

The Aerodrome

First World War

China National Aviation Corporation

Book: Hoosier Aviator Paul Baer: America’s First Combat Ace, by Tony Garel-Frantzen

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Italy: Maresciallo dell’Aria (Marshal of the Air Force) Italo Balbo

“Italian fascist politician and Blackshirts’ leader who served as Italy’s Marshal of the Air Force, Governor-General of Libya and Commander-in-Chief of Italian North Africa.  Described as the “heir apparent” to Italian dictator Benito Mussolini, often seen as one of his most probable successors.”

Note Marshall Balbo’s signature and salutation at bottom left.

Italo Balbo, at Wikipedia

Italo Balbo, at FindAGrave

Newspaper Clippings about Italo Balbo, in 20th Century Press Archives of the ZBW

Italian Air Armada Stirs New York Aka Balbo Arrives In New York (1933), at British Pathé YouYube Channel

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The Netherlands: Anthony Gerard Fokker

“Dutch aviation pioneer, aviation entrepreneur, aircraft designer, and aircraft manufacturer.  Most famous for the fighter aircraft he produced in Germany during the First World War such as the Eindecker monoplanes, the Dr.1 triplane and the D.VII biplane.”

Note that both of these images bear Anthony Fokker’s signature.

(Image 18-PU-137-1)

“Anthony G. Fokker in one of his airplanes about 1911-1912.”  (Image 18-PU-137-2)

Anthony G. Fokker, at Wikipedia

Anthony G. Fokker, at FindAGrave

The National Aviation Hall of Fame

Newspaper Clippings about Anthony G. Fokker, in 20th Century Press Archives of the ZBW

At Oogle Books:

Tony Fokker Wizard Of Flight“, Popular Science, May 1931

Tony Fokker And The World War“, Popular Science, June 1931

Tony Fokker Captures America“, Popular Science, July 1931

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Major Ployer Peter Hill

“Pilot and an officer with a varied career, best known for his abilities as a test pilot.  In an aviation career that spanned eighteen years, Hill piloted nearly 60 of the Army Air Corps’ newest aircraft, testing and evaluating their capabilities for service.”

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Army Assignments

The Washington Post

May 29, 1925

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Big Bomber Falls in Ohio, Killing 1

Major P.P. Hill Dies As the Boeing ‘Fortress’ Crashes at 200 Feet in Tests

The New York Times

October 31, 1935

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Bomber’s Crash Laid to Locked Controls

Albuquerque Journal

November 13, 1935

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Boeing Test Chief Dies Of His Injuries

Leslie Tower Was in Crash of Army Bomber on Experimental Flight at Dayton Oct. 30

The New York Times

November 20, 1935

Leslie Ralph Tower, at FindAGrave

Ployer P. Hill, at Wikipedia

Ployer P. Hill, at FindAGrave

Model 299 (NX13372) Crash, at National Museum of the United States Air Force

Model 299 (NX13372) Crash, at Aviation Safety.net

This Day In Aviation

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 Ruth Rowland Nichols (and Amelia Mary Earhart)

“American aviation pioneer.  The only woman yet to hold simultaneous world records for speed, altitude, and distance for a female pilot.”

“Miss Amelia Earhart Putnam and Miss Ruth Nichols.  Taken at National Air Races – Los Angeles, Cal.  July, 1933.” (Image 18-P-228, 267)

Ruth R. Nichols, at Wikipedia

Ruth R. Nichols, at FindAGrave

Ruth NIchols Home Movies 1935 – Women Pilots Ruth Elder Aviatrixes 70390 HD, at Periscope Film

Ruth Nichols reaches Valley Stream from Los Angeles in 13 hours and 22 minutes, at Critical Past

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Amelia Mary Earhart

Amelia Earhart, at Wikipedia

This image of Amelia Earhart (28987AC) is dated July 30, 1936.  The serial number of the Boeing P-12C behind Amelia, painted on the aircraft’s propeller blade, is 31-156.  According to Aviation Archeology, this aircraft was assigned to first the 95th, and then the 43rd, Pursuit Squadrons, in which it was involved in landing accidents on December 24, 1930, and November 26, 1935, the pilots having been Carl B. Fry and Jerome E. Blair, Jr. (eventually Colonel Jerome Edward Blair, Jr.), respectively.  The aircraft in the background is probably a Consolidated PB-2.  (Image 18-P-228266)

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England: Philip A.G.D. (Albert Gustave David) Sassoon

“Sir Philip Albert Gustave David Sassoon, 3rd Baronet, GBE, CMG (4 December 1888 – 3 June 1939).  British politician, art collector, and social host, entertaining many celebrity guests at his homes, Port Lympne Mansion, Kent, and Trent Park, Hertfordshire, England.  Secretary of State for Air, Sassoon was Honorary Air Commodore of No. 601 (County of London) Squadron. “

Philip A.G.D Sassoon, at Wikipedia

Philip A.G.D. Sassoon, at FindAGrave

Sir Philip Sassoon (1925), at British Pathé YouYube Channel

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Lawrence Burst Sperry

“Third son of the gyrocompass co-inventor, Elmer Ambrose Sperry and his wife Zula.  Sperry invented the first autopilot, which he demonstrated with startling success in France in 1914.  Sperry is also credited with developing the artificial horizon still used on most aircraft in the early 21st century.”  (Image 5913 AS)

Lawrence B. Sperry, at Wikipedia

Lawrence B. Sperry, at FindAGrave

Lawrence Sperry: Genius on Autopilot, at History.net

A Book in Memory, A Book of Memory: Fighter Pilot, by 1 Lt. Levitt Clinton Beck, Jr. [Updated post, updatingly updated…]

(“This” post, having been created in February of 2019, is now slightly updated: Included below is a photographic portrait of 1 Lt. Levitt Clinton Beck, Jr., from the National Archives’ collection Photographic Prints of Air Cadets and Officers, Air Crew, and Notables in the History of Aviation – NARA RG 18-PU.  Though I don’t know the Advanced Flying School from which Lt. Beck graduated and received his commission as a Second Lieutenant, the large pin that he’s wearing, bearing the abbreviation “43-B”, indicates that he received his wings in February of 1943.  Lt. Beck’s pride and determination are obvious.)

[May 20, 2021:  Updating the update!…

From Missing Air Crew Report 6224, covering the loss of Lt. Beck’s P-47D Thunderbolt, this post has included a copy of the “Meldung über den Abschuss eines US-Amerikanisch Flugzeuges” (Report about the downing of an American airplane) from German Luftgaukommando Report J 1582, which pertains to the capture and identification of Lt. Beck, and, the eventual “correlation” by the Germans of Lt. Beck to his specific Thunderbolt. 

I’ve now updated this post (I prefer to “stick with the same post”, rather than make a succession of brief additional posts) to include 300 dpi color scans, from the United States National Archives, of the two sheets comprising J 1582.  One scan is of the above-mentioned “Meldung”, and the other is a list – compiled on July 7, 1944 – of destroyed Allied airplanes, with the names (where known) of pertinent dead or captured Allied airmen lost on June 28, 1944.  

Both of these documents are displayed “lower” in the post, just “below” the MACR…] 

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________________________________________

“On the other hand,
if I don’t make it,
everything I have written will be here for anyone to read,
and I feel it will make a better ending to my life than just to be
“missing in action.”

“When you read all this I shall be right there looking over your shoulder.”

________________________________________

________________________________________

Among my varied interests is a fascination for literary art.  That is, art, appearing as cover and interior illustrations upon and within books and magazines, examples of which are displayed at one of my brother blogs, WordsEnvisioned.  My interests in literary art encompass a wide variety of subjects, such as science fiction (the latter especially as “pulp” science fiction, and fantasy, from the 1940s through the 1960s), many aspects of history, aviation, literature, and many other areas. 

Within the world of aviation, the book Fighter Pilot, created by the parents of First Lieutenant Levitt Clinton Beck, Jr. in honor and memory of their son, at first seemed to be a most fitting subject for WordsEnvisioned.  On second thought, I realized that the book’s literary and historical significance and its relation to military aviation make it a more suitable subject “here”, at ThePastPresented.

So…

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Military literature from all eras is replete with autobiographical accounts of the wartime experiences and postwar reminiscences of its participants.  Such narratives, whether published during the immediacy of a conflict, or afterwards – years, and not uncommonly decades later – are typically based upon combinations of official documents, letters, diaries, photographs, illustrations, and above all, human memory, however fickle, imperfect, or uncertain the latter may be.  The commonality of most such accounts, regardless of the era; regardless of the war; even regardless of the identity of the soldier and the nation for which he fought; is that the participant of the past, would become the chronicler, creator, and literary craftsman within the present, for the future. 

Among the vast number of books and monographs presenting the story of a soldier’s wartime experiences, is another kind of literature, bearing its own nature and origin.  That is, stories about the lives and military experiences of servicemen who never returned from war, created by family members – typically parents – sometimes by former comrades – as living memorials that exists in words, and grant indirect testimony of and witness for those who can no longer speak.

A striking example of this genre of military literature is the book Fighter Pilot., created and published in 1946 by Levitt Clinton and Verne Ethel (Tryon) Beck, Sr., of Huntington Park, California.  The book is a posthumous autobiography of their son, First Lieutenant Levitt Clinton Beck Jr., who served as a fighter pilot in the 514th Fighter Squadron of the 406th Fighter Group, of the 9th Air Force.  Centrally based upon the thoughts, musings, retrospectives, and then-undelivered “letters” penned by their son, and including transcripts of correspondence several photographs, Fighter Pilot is historically fascinating, detailed, and from a “human” vantage point, a literary work that is best termed reflective – for the reader, and, by Beck, the writer.

Shot down during a brief encounter with FW-190s of JG 2 or JG 27 on June 29, 1944, Beck crash-landed his damaged Thunderbolt (Bloom’s Tomb; P-47D 42-8473) south of Dreux, France, near Havelu.  His loss is covered in MACR 6224. 

Taken to Les Branloires by Roland Larson, he was given civilian clothes by a Mr. Pelletier, and then taken to the town of Anet, where he remained for three weeks, hidden by Madame Paulette Mesnard, in a room above her restaurant, the Cafe de la Mairie (on Rue Diane de Poitiers).  There, while safely hidden (Fighter Pilot reveals that Madam Mesnard insisted that Lt. Beck remain there until Anet’s liberation by Allied troops…) he would compose the writings that would eventually become Fighter Pilot

Three weeks later, Lt. Beck was taken to the home of Mr. Rene Farcy, in Les Vieilles Ventes. 

One week further, Beck was picked up by a certain “Jean-Jacques” and the latter’s female companion, “Madame Orsini”.  Ostensibly a member of the Underground, Jean-Jaques was actually Jacques Desoubrie, a double agent who worked for the Gestapo.  Desoubrie took Lt. Beck to a hotel in Paris, on Boulevard St. Michel. 

The next day, the Lieutenant was arrested by the Gestapo and taken to the prison of Fresnes. 

From there, in accordance with German policy (as of the Summer of 1944) towards Allied aviators captured while garbed in civilian clothing and without military identification (dog-tags), and, in association with resistance networks in Belgium, France, and the Netherlands, Beck was one of 168 captured Allied aviators sent to the Buchenwald Concentration Camp.

A very detailed account of the mens’ experiences at Buchenwald can be found at the Wkikipedia biography of RNZAF pilot Squadron Leader Phillip John Lamason, DFC & Bar, who became the senior officer of the group.  As quoted, “Upon arrival, Lamason, as ranking officer, demanded an interview with the camp commandant, Hermann Pister, which he was granted. He insisted that the airmen be treated as POWs under the Geneva Conventions and be sent to a POW camp.  The commandant agreed that their arrival at Buchenwald was a “mistake” but they remained there anyway.  The airmen were given the same poor treatment and beatings as the other inmates.  For the first three weeks at Buchenwald, the prisoners were totally shaved, denied shoes and forced to sleep outside without shelter in one of Buchenwald’s sub-camps, known as ‘Little Camp’.   Little Camp was a quarantine section of Buchenwald where the prisoners received the least food and harshest treatment.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“As Buchenwald was a forced labor camp, the German authorities had intended to put the 168 airmen to work as slave-labor in the nearby armament factories.   Consequently, Lamason was ordered by an SS officer to instruct the airmen to work, or he would be immediately executed by firing squad.  Lamason refused to give the order and informed the officer that they were soldiers and could not and would not participate in war production.   After a tense stand-off, during which time Lamason thought he would be shot, the SS officer eventually backed down.

“Most airmen doubted they would ever get out of Buchenwald because their documents were stamped with the acronym “DIKAL” (Darf in kein anderes Lager), or “not to be transferred to another camp”.   At great risk, Lamason and Burney secretly smuggled a note through a trusted Russian prisoner, who worked at the nearby Nohra airfield, to the German Luftwaffe of their captivity at the camp.   The message requested in part, that an officer pass the information to Berlin, and for the Luftwaffe to intercede on behalf of the airmen.  Lamason understood that the Luftwaffe would be sympathetic to their predicament, as they would not want their captured men treated in the same way; he also knew that the Luftwaffe had the political connections to get the airmen transferred to a POW camp.”

Eventually, the men were transferred out of Buchenwald, with 156 going to Stalag Luft III (Sagan).  Ten others were were transported from the camp over a period of several weeks.

Two of the 168 did not survive:  They were Lt. Beck, and, Flying Officer Philip Derek Hemmens (serial 152583), a bomb aimer in No. 49 Squadron, Royal Air Force.  Hemmens’ Lancaster Mk III, ND533, EA * M, piloted by F/O Bryan Esmond Bell, was shot down during a mission to Etampes on the night of June 9-10.  Ironically, Hemmens was the only crew member to actually escape from the falling plane.  His fellow crew members were killed when EA * M was shot down.

Lt. Beck, weakened from an earlier bout of illness from the conditions in the concentration camp, died from a combination of pneumonia and pleurisy while isolated in the camp’s “hospital”, on the evening of September 29-30, 1944. 

He has no grave.  His name is commemorated on the Tablets of the Missing at the Luxembourg American Cemetery.

Similarly, the name of F/O Hemmens, who died on October 18, is commemorated at the Runnymede Memorial.

Well, there is at least some justice in this world, even if that justice is not speedy:  Jacques Desoubrie, whose infiltratation of two French Resistance groups eventuated in the arrest of at least 150 Resistants, fled to Germany after France’s liberation.  He was, “…arrested after being denounced by his ex-mistress, and executed by firing squad as a collaborationist on 20 December 1949 in the fort of Montrouge, in Arcueil (near Paris).”

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For one so young at the time (Beck was 24), the overlapping combination of seriousness, introspection, contemplation, and literary skill (and, some levity) in his writing are immediately apparent.

A central and animating factor in Beck’s words was the realization of the danger of his predicament, and the possibility that – however remote, at the time; for reasons unknown, at the time – he might not return.  He was realistic about this.  Whether this feeling arose from a premonition, or objective contemplation of the danger of his situation, either and both motivations spurred him to record thoughts and create letters for two eventualities: 

His return, and the creation of a permanent record of his experiences, perhaps for the sake of reminiscing; perhaps for eventual publication.

His failure to return, and a document by which he could be remembered by his parents and friends.  (He was an only son.)

As he recorded:

“The idea has been growing within me these last few days that I should like to take all these experiences and others I have had, and have my book, “Fighter Pilot,” published after the war is over.  There is the thought, too that “Lady Luck” may not be able to ride all the way with me.  So, while I have a few days to wait for the French Underground to complete their plans for my escape back to England, I see no reason why I shouldn’t write every day, all that I can, so that just in case my luck has run out, you will know what has happened to your wandering son.”

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I obtained a copy of Fighter Pilot some years ago.  The book was republished in Honolulu by “Book Vompay LLC” in 2008, with the book’s Worldcat entry stating that, “This edition is a revised and corrected version of the original, which was first published in 1946.”  As of this moment – early 2019 – copies are available from two eBay sellers, each for approximately $50.00. 

Some extracts from the book’s text, as well as some images, are shown below.  These will give you a feel for the book’s literary and historical flavor.

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The book’s dust jacket bears an image of a bubbletop P-47D, almost certainly sketched by Beck himself.  Though the canopy frame bears a kill marking denoting a destroyed German plane (see account below), this aerial victory was not confirmed: USAF Credits for the Destruction of Enemy Aircraft, World II, contains no entry for this event.

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A poem by Beck, composed at the age of twenty.

I SEE IT NOW

(Written in 1940)
By L.C. Beck, Jr.

I WATCHED the day turn into nite,
Creeping shadows reached the sky;
Birds flew to their nests,
Still singing as they went;
All mankind lay quiet at rest,
As though to heaven sent.
Quiet ne’er before was like this –
Even wind hung softly about the trees,
As is afraid of waking birds,
Sleeping in their nests;
‘Twas like another world to me,
And I found myself wishing –
Wishing it were true.

I’ve suffered – and have hated it,
But in my mind a thought was born,
Making a new path for me –
On which I now find my way.

I see it now –
While I suffer here
I must not question of it;
It is the way of life –
Too much happiness would spoil me;

I’d grow too fond of life on earth
And the after life I seek
Would not be so sweet -.
We must have our troubles here;
Our hearts torn by loss,
Our hands made bloody by war,
Our future left unknown.

Once again the time has come
When day and night do meet, –
But all are going in ways apart
And but touch here in their passing;
I’m glad that God mas made it so
For it thrills me to my very soul
To see so bright a luster of the day
Meet the sweet sereneness of the night.

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The book’s simple and unadorned cover.

____________________

1 Lt. Levitt Clinton Beck, Jr., in an undated image taken in the United States.

____________________

Pilot, propeller, and power.  Given Beck’s rolled-up sleeves and the intense sunlight, this picture was probably taken somewhere in the southeastern United States.  Another clue: 406th Fighter Group P-47s did not have white engine cowlings.

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Dated March 8, 1944, this picture is captioned “Officer’s Party, AAF”. 

Fighter Pilot lists the names of the men in the photo.  They are (left to right):

Front Row

Billington, James Lynn 2 Lt. (0-810463) – Queens County, N.Y.
KIA June 24, 1944, MACR 6346, P-47D 43-25270
Dugan, Bernard F. 2 Lt. (0-811868) – Montgomery County, Pa.
KNB April 15, 1944 (No MACR)
Born 8/16/19
Arlington National Cemetery; Buried 7/19/48
Beck, Levitt Clinton, Jr., Lt.

Middle Row

Long, Bryce E. Lt. (0-811938) – Edmond, Ok. (Survived war)
Van Etten, Chester L. Major (0-663442) Los Angeles, Ca. (Survived war)
Gaudet, Edward R. 2 Lt. (0-686738) – Middlesex County, Ma.
KIA June 29, 1944, MACR 6225, P-47D 42-8682
Atherton
Benson, Marion Arnold 2 Lt. (0-806035) – Des Moines County, Ia.
KIA June 17, 1944, MACR 6635, P-47D 42-8493

Rear Row

Cramer, Bryant Lewis 1 Lt. ( 0-810479) – Chatham County, Ga.
KIA August 7, 1944, MACR 7405, P-47D 42-75193
Cara Montrief (grand-daughter)  According to Fighter Pilot, Cramer’s daughter was born three weeks after her father was shot down. 
Dorsey III, Isham “Ike” Jenkins – Opelika, Al. (Survived war)
David “Whitt” Dorsey (brother)

Note that Major Van Etten is wearing RAF or RCAF wings.

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A review of Missing Air Crew Reports yields a huge umber of accounts for which an aircraft went missing, and, the pilot did not return.  This is so for MACR 6224, which covers Beck’s loss.  However, within Fighter Pilot appears Beck’s own account of his last mission, writing in hiding at Anet, which provides the “other side” of the Missing Air Crew Report.  Beck’s final radio call, “Eddie, I think I may have to bail out,” – probably to 2 Lt. Edward R. Gaudet – was heard and reported as “My airplane is hit.  I think I’ll have to bail out,” by 1 Lt. Bryant L. Cramer, who himself was shot down and killed less than two months later. 

Lt. Gaudet was shot down and killed during the same engagement, while flying P-47D 42-8682 (covered in MACR 6225).

Beck’s account, and images of MACR 6224, follow below:

CHAPTER TWO

My First “Victory”

WE WERE TO fly the “early one” that morning of June 29th.  We dashed down in the murky dawn, that only England can boast about, for breakfast and briefing.  Both very satisfying, we took off and headed for our target, just a few miles south-west of Paris, along the Seine river.  My flight carried no bombs, as we were to be top cover for the squadron on their bomb run.  It was a group (three squadrons) mission.

Just before we reached the first target, a bridge, the flak opened up and we did some evasive action to go around it.  None of it came very close to my flight, but we were not giving them very much of a target to shoot at, I guess.  The clouds made it rather hard to keep the others down below in sight, so I dropped down to about 12,000 feet.  We lost the rest of the squadron for a while and then I spotted them to the west, being shot at.  I started over there with my flight and as we neared the others, someone in my flight called:

“Break, Beck, flak.  Break left!”

I did, and then, Eddie, I believe, said: “It’s a 190.”

I turned 180 degrees and saw the 190 in the middle of three 47s — Cramer, Eddie and Unger.  I gave it full boost and started back after the little devil.  He looked very small among the Thunderbolts and I had no trouble recognizing him as a 190.  He was breaking up and then I think he saw me coming after him as he turned around and we were then going at each other head on.  For a brief second I thought of breaking up into a position where I could drop on his tail, but he was the first Jerry I’d ever seen and I wasn’t going to let him live that long if I could help it.

I knew, however, that his chances of shooting me, at head on, would be just as good but I was a little too eager and mad to give a damn.  I squeezed the trigger and I think the first round hit him because I saw strikes on his cowl, wing roots and canopy all the way in.  I guess I’d have flown right through him, but he broke up a little to the left and I raked his belly at very close range.  I thought to myself:

“Becky, there’s your first victory.”

Just to make sure, though, I turned with him and started down but I didn’t seem to be going very fast.  I rammed the throttle with the palm of my hand but was rather astonished to feel it already up against the stop.  I flipped on the water switch but that didn’t seem to do any good either.  I looked down at my instruments and then it was very clear.  My engine had been shot out.  I felt a little panicky at first but settled down and started “checking things.”

Nothing I did seemed to have any effect, so I called:

Eddie, I think I may have to bail out.

Oil started licking back over the cockpit.  Here we go again, I thought.  Just like Cherbourg.  She is even worse this time, I guess.  The damned engine was just turning over and that was about all.  I knew I could never make the channel but I was still trying, I guess, because I was messing around with the throttle and everything I could get my hands on …  6000 feet now.

I still had my eye on my “victory”, though.  He was going down in a spiral to the left, smoking very badly.  Wham!  Something hit me in the back and threw me forward.  I didn’t need to look to know what it was.  I broke to the left pulling streamers off everything and there he was.  A sleek little 190 sitting on my tail – gray and shiny, spitting out flames of death up at me.  It wasn’t a very pretty sight, I must say — looking down his cannons — I knew then that I was no longer fighting to get the ship running again.  I was fighting for my life!!

I was pretty scared for an instant, but it seems that just when I get that feeling inside and almost think I’m a coward, something snaps.  It did, and I was once again the mad fighting American I had been, with an engine.  I forgot for the time being that my engine was dead, I guess, because I watched him flash past and then jerked my kite around to the right to a point I knew he would be.  I hadn’t looked out the front of the canopy for some time and now as I did, all I saw was the reflection in the glass, covered with oil, of my gun-sight.  I cursed and pulled the trigger, shooting in the dark, but at least I felt better.  I kicked the ship sideways to have a look out of the side and there was Jerry — just a hundred yards up front.  I swung the nose around to about the right position, I thought, and fired.  I don’t know whether I hit him or not, but he seemed in pretty much of a hurry to get the hell away.

I pressed the “mike” button and said:

“I’m bailing out.”  But all I heard was deathly silence.  I knew then that my radio had been blown to bits by the Jerry on my tail.

I thought that I’d better jump at about 4000 feet, so I undid my safety belt and just then my ship shuddered and I heard terrific explosions all around me.  I looked out of the only clear space left in the canopy, and saw more flak than I’d ever dreamed possible in one small area.  I couldn’t see which way to break so I just went to the right, because the ship did, I guess.  I knew then that to bail out would mean sure capture and I still had just a wee bit of hope left for my chances of getting away.  I decided to stick with the ship and try a trick that “Benny” and I had talked about one night before he was killed.

I opened the canopy a crack so I could see the ground and when I did, I saw the longest clear stretch of land I think I ever saw in France.  It was just about the right distance away, I thought, for me to make my dive to the deck and then scoot over there, at tree top level, and belly in.

I remembered that I had taken my safety belt off, so I started trying to put it on and still keep my eye on Jerry at the same time — also fly the ship— without an engine.  Some fun, and if you want to try your ability at being versatile, it is a good trick.

I got under Jerry without his seeing me, I guess, and then down among the trees; I had to keep a keen eye out of the cockpit, so I gave up the idea of buckling my belt again, and decided that I would stretch my luck a bit more, by doing the impossible.  I really had no choice, but to hell with the belt.  Here comes Jerry again.  I had about 275 MPH, so I felt pretty “safe”, you might say.  I would wait until he got in range, then break and throw off his aim and then belly in.  It was very simple, when you happen to be the luckiest guy in the whole air force.  I put one hand on the instrument panel and waited until I got slowed down a bit.  I eased her down slowly and was just about ready to touch the ground when I realized that I had not put my flaps down and my stalling speed would be much too fast.  I pulled up, but just before I did, I felt my prop hit the ground.  I pushed the flap handle down and then watched the grass go by on either side.  It seemed as though I’d buzzed half way across France by now and I must be running out of field.  I kicked the ship sideways and looked.  The trees were still quite some distance ahead, so I eased the old girl down and then I was sliding.  I put my “stick hand” on the panel, too, and just braced myself and waited.  It shook me around quite a bit, but as I had ridden quite a few rough roller coasters without a safety belt, I was doing pretty well without one now at 100 MPH or so in a 7 1/2-ton hunk of metal.  Just before the last few feet, the ship turned to the right and threw me crashing into the left side of the cockpit.  It was then that I realized that my back and ribs were already sore from the shock I’d received from the 190’s cannon.

Flames were licking up over the cowling of my ship and I had no more than enough time to get out.  I knew I wouldn’t have to destroy my ship.  I jumped out, parachute and all, and again hit on my left side, on the wing.  I was pretty sore around that part of me by now, also quite excited and too mad to care much.

A few yards from the ship I stopped long enough to take off all the equipment strapped to me.  I considered taking the escape kit out of my ‘chute pack, but there wasn’t time.

When you are 100 miles inside enemy territory, naturally one has the feeling that every bush hides a German.  I was quite inexperienced in ground fighting, so I didn’t look forward to shooting it out with the Germans with my .45 pistol.

Thoughts were running through my mind about just what to do and how, all during those first five or ten seconds.  I even thought about hiding my ‘chute as we had been instructed in a lecture, but I looked back at my airplane and almost laughed.

______________________________

At approximately 0815 on 29 June, I was flying the wing of Yellow Flight Leader, Lt. Beck, at 13,500 ft. on a heading of 260o over Dreux.  The flight was jumped all too effectively at this time by four FW-190s, who came out of the clouds directly over us.  Lt. Beck and I broke left, bit one of the 190s got hits on Beck’s airplane before I could get it off his tail.  His engine was smoking rather badly, and as I followed the enemy aircraft down in a dive, attempting to close into effective range, I heard Lt. Beck call on the radio and say, “My airplane is hit.  I think I’ll have to bail out.”  I can not say for sure whether he made the jump successfully or not, nor am I positive he did jump.  It is quite probable, however, that he did jump, and successfully.  A pilot from the 513th Squadron, flying below us at the time of the encounter, reported seeing an unidentified, black fighter dive into the ground, and saw a chute open up above it.  The Focke-Wulfs were silver.

Missing Air Crew Report 6224

Here’s NARA’s digital version of the original “Meldung über den Abschuss eines US-Amerikanisch Flugzeuges” (Report about the downing of an American airplane) for Lt. Beck and his Thunderbolt.  Note that though Lt. Beck was shot down on June 28, 1944, this document was actually compiled only a little over four months later: November 2, 1944.  Lt. Beck had died two months before.       

Here’s a list (list number 28, to be specific) of four of the Allied warplanes shot down in France on June 27-28, 1944.  Data about the losses appears as black typed text, while identification numbers of pertinent Luftgaukommando Reports has been inked in, in red.  The Luftgaukommando Report numbers are KE 9108, KE 9065, J 1582 (Lt. Beck’s plane), and KE 9064.  Note that Lt. Beck, name then unknown, is reported as “flüchtig”: close translation “fugitive”.   

I’ve been unable to correlate KE 9108 to any aircraft, but KE 9064 definitely pertains to Lancaster III JB664 (ZN * N) of No. 106 Squadron RAF,  piloted by P/O Norman Wilson Easby, and KE 9065 covers Lancaster I LL974 (ZN * F), piloted by F/Sgt. Ernest Clive Fox.  Of the seven men in the crew of each aircraft – both of No. 106 Squadron RAF – there were, sadly, no survivors.   

As described in W.R. Chorley’s Bomber Command Losses, Volume 5

JB664: T/o 2255 Metheringham similarly targeted.  [To attack rail facilities at Vitry-le-Francois.]  Crashed 2 km E of Bransles (Seine-et-Marne), 16 km SE of Nemours.  All [crew] were buried in Bransles Communal Cemetery.

LL974: T/o 2255 Metheringham to attack rail facilities at Vity-le-Francois.  Shot down by a night-fighter, crashing at Thibie (Marne), 11 km WSW from the centre of Chalons-sur-Marne. All were buried locally, since when their remains have been brought to Dieppe for interment in the Canadian War Cemetery.   

Though KE Report numbers – covering British Commonwealth Aircraft losses – appear in NARA’s master list of Luftgaukommando Reports, I don’t know if (well, I don’t believe) they’re actually held at NARA.  

______________________________

This is a (postcard?) view of the main street of Rue Diane de Poitiers in Anet.  Lt. Beck lived on the third floor of the building on the right, in a room with the window directly below the small “X” symbol.

And below, a 2018 Google Street view of Rue Diane de Poitiers, which (well, to the best degree possible) replicates the orientation and perspective of the above 1940s postcard image.  Akin to the postcard, the view is oriented south-southeast.  

What was Madame Mesnard’s restaurant is now occupied by a branch of the Banque Populaire, while the business to the right (_____ Centrale“) is now the Pressing Diane Anet laundary service. 

Above all, hauntingly, the similarities between the view “then”, and the view “now” are striking.  The window of Lt. Beck’s hiding place is visible directly beneath the leftmost of the two television antennae.

Below, another Google view of 16 – 18 Rue Diane de Poitiers.

______________________________

This is a very different view of Rue Diane de Poitiers: The drawing, sketched by Lt. Beck, shows buildings directly across the street from the window of his room.  His self-portrait appears as a reflection in the lower right windowpane, with his initials – “By LCB” – just below.

And below, a 2018 Google street view (albeit at ground level) of the building directly across the street from Lieutenant Beck’s room.  In 2019, it’s the home of the Boulangerie pâtisserie chocolaterie à Anet (Chocolate Bakery Pastry Shop in Anet). 

______________________________

Here are Lt. Beck’s last diary entries and final words to his parents, composed just prior to his departure from Anet and his ill-fated attempt to return to Allied forces:

It’s a very beautiful day today, the first nice sunny one in over a week. I shall just have to lie in the sun awhile, even though I won’t get much written.  As I said previously, I was to leave at 8:00 o’clock at night.  That was wrong, I find, after talking to Paulette about it.  It was at 8:00 o’clock in the morning.  That means that I don’t have tomorrow to write and so today must wind up my writing from France.

It has been lots of fun writing all this.  I guess that I am just halfway glad that I got in on this part of the war.  Just a few hours after I set my plane down in France, I thought to myself:

“Boy, what a story this will make.”

Even if I don’t get out of France, ever, this will, by mail, and that is one reason why I have taken it so seriously.  Had I felt that it never would be read I should not have written so much.

Writing something like this that will not be mailed right away gives me a chance to say just anything I feel.  If I get back to England and finally to America again, I can just tear up anything that was meant to be read if I were killed trying to get back.  On the other hand, if I don’t make it, everything I have written will be here for anyone to read, and I feel it will make a better ending to my life than just to be “missing in action.”

No one wants to die like that — just without anyone knowing what happened.  I feel then that I have really accomplished a great deal in leaving these passing thoughts behind.  Hoping with all my heart that they will be of some comfort to all my friends, and especially to my Mom and Dad.

When you read all this I shall be right there looking over your shoulder.  (You may not see me but I am here.)  You can feel that I have not gone away, but have, instead, come back to you.  (I am so much closer than I was in England and France.)

You should see my tan now.  I’m either mighty dirty or very tan, one or the other.  At least I like it and feel much more healthy when I’m brown, as I have told you before.

I’ll be darned if Larson didn’t bring me two packages of cigarettes.  He must have killed two Jerries to get them.  What a guy!!!

How can a guy feel sad and lonely with someone doing everything in the world for you – ?

Mom, if you will, I’d like you to write a letter to Paulette and to Larson.  They can get the French lady I spoke of, to translate it for them.  You can write two or just one letter — suit yourself.  Address it to Larson Roland, Anet, France.

He has lived here all his life and everyone knows him.  Also, if you like, you can ask them to write and tell you just what happened.  You will want to know I am sure and if there is any way humanly possible, they will find out and write you.

So, as this lovely day draws to an end, so does my writing.  Always remember this saying which you put at the bottom of so many of your letters.  It is truly a short, sincere, and very simple statement but holds a world of comfort and thought:

“Keep smiling.”

I have kept smiling every day and it has made each day of my life joyously happy.  Just remember me as always smiling, Mom.  And now it is you and Dad who must, “Keep your chin up” and “Keep smiling”, always.

I shall always be, Your loving son

— L.C.—

______________________________

And,  earlier in the text, a letter to an unknown “Helen:

Helen,

You didn’t think I would forget you, did you?

After knowing a girl as lovely as you, for twelve years, a guy would be absolutely a “dope” if he did!

Thinking of all our wonderful times together is easy but to forget them would take more than a lifetime.

I guess something must have gone wrong with the machine that “puts names on bullets”.  We both were quite sure, weren’t we?  I really felt that I would live to be a hundred, but I suppose I can say, quite safely, that in my 24 years I have had my share of living.

It’s always nicer, anyway, to end a story at its best climax.  My story ends just as I like it.  Full of thrills and excitement and with the blood tingling in my veins — Fighting.

I guess there isn’t much else to say.  You know how I always was about such things.  Perhaps leaving things unsaid at times is better.  Just now, anything I say might sound foolish or untrue.  Perhaps it would be, but when a person writes a note of this type he doesn’t very often say things he doesn’t mean.

If you can see my point I shall only say this and no more.

I loved you dearly when we were at our best.  You must have known.  Surely you could tell.  As for some of the time, I will admit that I wasn’t sure.

Our love affair was, ’tis true, quite irregular and although it might have been better, I shall always think of it as a very wonderful part of my life.

Perhaps had we been a bit older when we met and I a bit more settled, as well as you, we would have been married.

As it turned out you are much better off as you would be a widow now instead of a beautiful young girl, with a fine future ahead of you.

Well, “Sweet Stuff,” I shall say Byeeeee now, with a kiss for old times.

I want to wish you every happiness that can be yours.

Until we meet again — I shall be waiting.

Love, L. C.

______________________________

Finally, just before his departure from Anet:

If anything happens to me, I hope that you can finish my story.  It would be my last wish and I think a very nice way to end a thus far, perfectly swell life.  Naturally, I truly hope that I shall be able to finish the story myself, but if not, the ending will be for you to finish.  Paulette will have someone write you and tell you just what happened, if the French Underground can find out.  This is quite an unhappy little note, isn’t it?  I feel much the opposite, however.

______________________________

______________________________

Here are images of four of the pilots mentioned by Beck, or, appearing in the group photograph above.

This is “Dorsey III”, namely, Isham “Ike” Jenkins Dorsey III, of Opelika, Alabama.  He survived the war.  Contributed by his brother, David “Whitt” Dorsey, this photo appears at Isham Dorsey III’s commemorative page at the Registry of the National WW II Memorial.

 ______________________________

“Unger”, mentioned in the account of Beck’s last mission, is listed in Fighter Pilot as “Lt. Edwin H. Unger, Jr., New York, N.Y.”  His image, as an aviation cadet, appears in a composite of photographic portraits of servicemen from Nassau, New York, in the Nassau Daily Review-Star of May 26, 1944, accessed via Thomas N. Tyrniski’s FultonHistory website.  (That’s where the “If you are reading this you have too much time on your hands.” is from!)  Lt. Unger survived the war.

If You Are reading this you have to much time on your hands

______________________________

This is Major Chester L. Van Etten from Los Angeles, who’s seen (wearing RCAF or RAF wings) in the center of the group photo.  This image, also at the Registry of the National WW II Memorial, appears in a commemorative page created by Chester L. Van Etten himself.

______________________________

Also appearing at the WW II Memorial Registry is this image of Lt. Bryant L. Cramer, appearing on a commemorative page created by his grand-daughter, Cara Montrief.  I assume that this image was taken in the Continental United States. 

Here’s Lt. Cramer’s portrait, taken in August of 1943, from the National Archives’ collection “Photographic Prints of Air Cadets and Officers, Air Crew, and Notables in the History of Aviation“.

References

Beck, Levitt C., Jr. (Beck, Levitt C., Sr.), Fighter Pilot, Mr. and Mrs. Levitt C. Beck, Sr., Huntington Park, Ca., 1946

Chorley, W.R., Royal Air Force Bomber Command Losses of the Second World War Volume 5 – 1944, Midland Publishing, Hinckley, England, 1997

USAF Credits for the Destruction of Enemy Aircraft, World War II – USAF Historical Study No. 85, Albert F. Simpson Historical Research Center, Air University, 1978

First Lieutenant Levitt Clinton Beck., Jr. – FindAGrave biographical profile

P-47D 42-8473 “Bloom’s Tomb” – at 406th Fighter Group

Lancaster ND533 – at Aerosteles

Lancaster ND533 – at North East War Memorials Project

Lancaster ND533 – at WW2 Talk

Jacques Desoubrie – at Wikipedia

Allied Airmen at Buchenwald – at Wikipedia

Allied Airmen at Buchenwald – at National Museum of the United States Air Force

Squadron Leader Phillip John Lamason, DFC & Bar – at Wikipedia

– Michael G. Moskow

2/26/19

1017

9/26/20

1651

Before The Web: Computation and Cybernetics in Astounding Science Fiction, May, 1949 – “Electrical Mathematicians”

From Astounding Science Fiction of May, 1949, the article “Electrical Mathematicians,” by Lorne Maclaughlan, focuses on the the use of computers – specifically, electronic as opposed to purely mechanical computers – as devices to perform mathematical calculations.  It’s one of the four non-fiction articles pertaining to cybernetics and computation published by the magazine that year, the other three having been:

“Modern Calculators” (digital and analog calculation), by E.L. Locke; pp. 87-106 – January

The Little Blue Cells” (‘Selectron’ data storage tube), by J.J. Coupling; pp. 85-99 – February

“Cybernetics” (review of Norbert Wiener’s book by the same title), by E.L. Locke; pp. 78-87 – September

The identity and background of author Maclaughlan remain an enigma.  (At least, in terms of “this” post!)  The Internet Speculative Fiction Database shows only two other entries under his name, both in Astounding (“Noise from Outside” in 1947, and “Servomechanisms” in 1948, while web searches yield a parallel paucity of results.  This absence biographical information, especially in light of the over seven decades that have transpired since 1949, coupled with the author’s distinctive writing style – combining clarity and economy of expression, and, an ease and familiarity with the language of technology – leads me to wonder if that very name “Lorne Maclaughlin” (note the lack of a middle initial?) might actually have been a pen-name for an engineer or academic.  Given the somewhat ambiguous reputation of science-fiction in professional and credentialed circles (albeit a reputation by the 1940s steadily changing for the better) maybe “Maclaughlan” – assuming the name was a pseudonym – might have wanted to maintain a degree of anonymity. 

Well, if so (maybe so?!) that anonymity has successfully persisted to this day!  

Anyway, the cover art’s cool. 

Depicting a scene from the opening of Hal Clement’s serialized novel Needle (the inspiration for the 1987 Kyle MacLachlan film The Hidden?), it’s one of the three (color, naturally) Astounding Science Fiction cover illustrations by Paul Orban, an illustrator primarily known for interior work, whose abundant output was only exceeded by his talent. 

As for Maclaughlan’s article itself, it begins with a brief overview of the implications of the increasing centrality of calculating devices in contemporary (1949 contemporary, that is!) society, and the future.

This is followed by a discussion of the very nature of calculation, whether performed by mechanical or electronic devices, which then segues into a comparison of the similarities and differences between binary and decimal systems of counting and computation, and an explanation of the utility of the former in computing devices.

Next, a lengthy discussion of memory.  (We’ve all heard of that…)  note the statement, “Not only must we “teach” the machine the multiplication table – by the process of wiring in the right connections – but it may also be necessary to provide built-in tables of sine and cosine functions, as well as other commonly used functions.  This is a permanent kind of memory – a fast temporary kind of memory is also needed to remember such things as the product referred to above until it is no longer needed.  This memory has not been easy to provide in required amounts, but recently invented electronic devices seem to offer some hope that this difficulty can be overcome.”  In this, author Maclaughlan is anticipating what we know today as ROM (read-only-memory) and RAM (random-access-memory), respectively.  This is followed by the topic of data input and manipulation, in the context of Hollerith Cards and Charles Babbage’s “Difference Engine”.  (For the latter, see “Babbage’s First Difference Engine – How it was intended to work,” and, “The Babbage Engine,” the latter at Computer History Museum.

From this, we come to computation in terms of the technology and operation of then-existing computers.   This encompasses ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer), EDVAC (Electronic Discrete Variable Automatic Computer), and MANIAC (Mathematical Analyzer Numerical Integrator and Automatic Computer Model I), and briefly touches upon the Selectron tube, the latter device the subject of J.J. Coupling’s article in the February 1949 issue of Astounding.

The final part of Mclaughlan’s article is a discussion of the nature, advantages, and use of “analyzers” – Differential Analyzers, and Transient Network Analyzers – in computation:  Specifically, in the solution of differential equations pertinent to scientific research, such as, “…the flow of microwave energy in wave-guides, the flow of compressible fluids in pipes, and even the solution of Schrodinger’s Wave Equation,” or military applications, such as aiming anti-aircraft guns or determining the trajectory of nuclear weapons, noting, “These latter-day buzz-bombs will be sufficiently lethal to warrant their carrying along their own computers.” 

Prescience, or, inevitability?  

And finally, the article concludes with a photograph.  

And, so…

ELECTRICAL MATHEMATICIANS

“The differential analyzer is more versatile than the network analyzer discussed above because it can integrate, differentiate – in effect – and multiply, and thus solve rather complicated differential equations.  These functions are performed by mechanical or electro-mechanical devices in the differential analyzer.  If these things could be accomplished by purely electrical means, we would expect a great increase in speed, and some decrease in size and weight.”  

To an extent none of us today can realize, these rapidly growing electrical calculators will become more and more important factors in ordinary life.  So far, they are handling only simple, straight-arithmetic problems.  They are brains, but so far they think only on low levels.  Give them time; they will be planners yet!

In this machine age no one is surprised at the announcement of some new or improved labor-saving device.  The scientists and technologists who design our new electronic rattraps, microwave hot-dog dispensers and atomic power plants have succeeded so well that they have created a serious manpower shortage in their own professions.  This shortage, which is chiefly in the field of analysis has recently forced them to put an unprecedented amount of effort into the design of machines to save themselves mental labor.  The results of their efforts are an amazingly variegated collection of computing machines, or “artificial brains” as they are called in the popular press:

The development of such machines took a tremendous spurt during the war, and today we can scarcely find a laboratory or university in the land which is not devoting some part of its efforts to work of this kind.  Progress is so rapid that the machines are obsolete before they are completed, and thus no two identical machines exist.

We cannot say that the computing machine is a new invention – the unknown Chinese originator of the abacus provided man with his first calculating machine in the sixth century B.C.  This would seem to make the machine nearly as old as the art of calculating, but man is equipped with fingers and toes which have always provided a handy portable computing device.  In fact, as we shall see, the simple fact that we have ten lingers has a definite bearing on the number of tubes and the kind of circuits required in electronic digital computers.

__________

 

Kelvin Wheel-and-Disk integrator.  This device, which gives the integral of a radial distance with respect to an angle, is the most important unit in a differential analyzer of the electromechanical type.

__________

It should be pointed out that there are two distinct types of computing machines in common use today.  One type deals with discrete whole numbers, counting them off with the aid of teeth on a wheel, or electrical pulses in vacuum tube circuits.  These numbers represent quantities, and they are added and multiplied just as numbers are on paper, but at a much higher speed.  These machines called digital computers, range from the simple cash-register adding machine to the complex all-electric ENIAC, with its eighteen thousand radio-type vacuum tubes.

The other type of machine is the analogue type of computer, in which the number to be dealt with is converted into some measurable quantity, such as length along a slide rule, or angle of rotation of a shaft.  The operations are performed electrically or mechanically, and the answer appears as a length, an angle, a voltage or some other quantity which must be converted back to a number.  The ideal machine of the analogue type will accept mathematical functions, empirical curves and directions for mixing and stirring, and turn out results in the form of curves automatically.

The digital computer is much more accurate than the analogue type for the simple reason that is easy to extend the number of significant digits in such machines to something like thirty or forty.  It is impossible to measure a point on a curve to anything approaching one part in 1040.  However, the analogue computers are in many ways faster and more versatile, because they can perform certain difficult mathematical operations directly, while digital machines require that these operations be reduced to addition and multiplication.

One of the first things we must do to understand modern digital computing machines is to disconnect our minds from the decimal number system, and get a more basic concept of number representation.  The decimal system of numbers is a natural choice, based on the fact man has that ten fingers.   We would perhaps be more fortunate had evolution given us twelve, for then our number system would be the more convenient duo-decimal system.  Let us examine this system as a starting point, by studying the table of numbers below.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 * t 10
11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 1* t 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 2* t 30

The six-fingered man would count to six on one hand, and then continue, seven, eight, nine, star, dagger, ten on the other.  His ten would be our twelve, of course, but it would be a resting point for him while he got his shoes off to continue to his twenty – our twenty-four – on his twelve toes.

If we continue the table for twelve lines of twelve numbers each we will get to his one hundred, which corresponds to our one hundred forty-four.  This number is his ten squared – our twelve squared – as it would be, and is preceded by his daggerty-dagger, ††.  This duodecimal system has the advantage that ten can be divided by 2, 3, 4 and 6, giving in each case whole numbers – 10/4 = 3, 10/6 = 2, et cetera – while our ten is only divisible by 2 and 5.  The ancient Babylonians were fond of this system, and also used sixty as a number base.  These systems remain today as the bases of our measurement of time in seconds, minutes and hours.

Now let us examine the binary system, based on two.  In this system all numbers are made up of combinations of just two digits, one and zero.  The simplicity of this system makes it possible to use simple devices such as electromagnetic relays to represent numbers.  The simple relay has two possible positions, open and closed, and we can represent zero by means of the open position, and one by the closed position, and then build up any number as shown in the table below.

Decimal System Binary System
1 1
2 10
3 11
4 100
5 101
6 110
7 111
8 1000
9 1001
10 1010

Computation is easy with this system, once we get the hang of it.  Thus our two cubed becomes, 1011 = 10 x 10 x 10 = 1000, and our two times three becomes 10 x 11 = 110, which is our six, as it should be.

With our minds cleared for action on any number base let us consider the capabilities which are necessary in a digital computer.  Digital computation requires that all operations be reduced to those of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division whether a machine is used or not.  These operations involve certain reflex actions, such as the response “six” when presented with the numbers “two” and “three” and the idea “multiply.”  The trained human mind possesses such reflex actions, and the machine must also possess them, as a first requirement.  Simple computing devices such as the commercial accounting machine possess a few reflexes.  It is necessary to build many rapid reflexes into mathematical computing machines.

The next “mental” capability the machine must possess is that of memory.  When we must multiply two numbers together before adding them to a third, memory is needed to preserve the product until the second operation can be performed.  Commercial calculating machines have limited memory – after multiplication, for example, the number appears on the output wheels, and the third number can easily be added.  The memory requirements in a good mathematical machine are much, much more stringent, and provide some of the toughest problems in design.  Not only must we “teach” the machine the multiplication table – by the process of wiring in the right connections – but it may also be necessary to provide built-in tables of sine and cosine functions, as well as other commonly used functions.  This is a permanent kind of memory – a fast temporary kind of memory is also needed to remember such things as the product referred to above until it is no longer needed.  This memory has not been easy to provide in required amounts, but recently invented electronic devices seem to offer some hope that this difficulty can be overcome.

There are still two capabilities left.  These are choice and sequence.   The computing machine should be able to choose between two numbers, or two operations it can perform, in accordance with certain rules.  Sequence involves, as the name implies, the proper choice of order of numbers or operations according to some rule which applies in the particular problem being solved.

These last two capabilities are not found to any great extent in any but the most modern mathematical computing machines.  On the other hand there are a multitude of other mental capabilities found in humans which are undesirable in mathematical machines.  Emotion, aesthetics, creative ability and so forth are not desirable, for these help to make humans unfit for much routine computing work.  What we want is perfect slave, fast, untiring and industrious, who will never embarrass or disconcert us with unexpected response.  (Of course the engineers in charge of some of the complicated modern mathematical machines are quick to accuse them of temper tantrums and other undesirable emotions.)

Perhaps the fanciest digital computing machine today is the IBM Automatic Sequence Controlled calculator at Harvard.  The letters IBM International Business Machines Corporation, which has developed a series of machines intended for use in accounting work.  These machines use a punched card – a device with quite a history, as histories go in the computing field.  It would seem that weaving machines which could be used to more or less automatically weave patterned cloth excited the imagination of a good many inventors in in the early eighteenth century.  In such weaving it was necessary to sequence automatically the “shredding,” or controlling of the warp threads so that weft threads could be passed through them to weave a pattern.  Punched tape and punched cards had already been by 1727.  The punched cards we use today get the name Jacquard cards from the name of the inventor of an improved weaving machine around the year 1800.

This basic idea was good enough to attract the attention of Charles Babbage, an English actuary, who is regarded as the lather of the modern computing machine.  His “difference engine” was designed, in his words, “to perform the whole operation” – of the computing and printing of tables of functions – “with no mental attention when numbers have once been fed in the machine.”  When this “engine” was nearly complete the government withdrew its support of the Project, and Babbage began the construction of an analytical machine on his own.  This machine, a wholly mechanical device, was to use punched Jacquard cards for automatic sequencing.  In 1906 his son successfully completed a machine with which he calculated pi to twenty-nine significant figures.

Hollerith, in this country, made a great advance in the use of punched cards when he invented a card sorter to aid in classifying the results of the 1880 census.  Most people today are familiar with the kind of things that a sorter can do.  Thus if we have a sorter and a stack of cards with personal and alphabetical information punched thereon we can request the machine to pick out all left-handed individuals with cross-eyes and Z for a second initial, and bzzzzt, bzzzzt, bzzzzt – there they are.

The IBM Company, by catering to the needs of organizations which handle – and have – a good deal of money, was able to put the manufacture of computing machines on a paying basis.  It need not be pointed out that it is much more difficult to produce profitably machines which will only be used for such tasks as the calculation of pi to umpteen places.  However the punched card machines built for accountants have found their way into scientific computing laboratories, and the IBM Company has a research laboratory which is actively developing new machines for scientific use as well as for accounting.

A punched card machine operating on the Hollerith principle interprets numerical and operational data according to the positions of holes punched on cards, and then perform various mathematical operations.  The cards, which are familiar to most people – postal notes, government checks, et cetera – have twelve vertical positions in each of eighty columns.  The vertical positions are labeled y, x, 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.  Thus an 80 digit or two 40 digit numbers can be set up on one card, and the y space, for example, may be used to indicate sign.

The cards are read for purposes of sorting et cetera by a simple mechanism involving a metal cylinder and sets of electrically conducting brushes.  As the card moves between the rotating cylinder and the eighty brushes, one for each column, an electrical contact is made whenever a punched hole passes under a brush.  The position of the cylinder at the time that the brush makes contact indicates the number, or letter, represented.  Any number system could be used, but the decimal system is selected because of its familiarity.  The various IBM machines now on the market include Card Punchers, Card Interpretaters [sic], Card Sorters, Collators and others, all operating on the same basic principles.  The most useful machine to scientific workers is the Automatic Multiplying Punch.  This machine will multiply factors punched in cards, and will automatically punch the product in a card, or even add and punch out products.

The computer lab at Harvard, mentioned above, uses a combination of these machines and a device for sequencing their operations – whence the name IBM Automatic Sequence Controlled.  This calculator is one of the half-dozen large machines in this country which can be used to tear into a tough problem and quickly reduce it to a neat column of figures – or a stack of cards, in this case.  Since it is a digital type of computer capable of great accuracy, but because it is partly mechanical in operation it is slow compared to the newer all electronic machines.  The automatic sequencing apparatus is not easy to set up, and thus type of machine is best suited to the solution of repetitive types of problems, such as the calculation of tables.  The punched card is a convenient form in which to store tables of simple functions, e.g. Sin x, Log x, which are often needed in computation of tables of more complicated functions.

Of course, if you want to prepare a table umpteen places Bessell Functions, or evaluate some determinants, or make some matrix algebra manipulations you will have to wait s time for your turn on this or any similar machine.  You will have to have a pretty good story too, for these machines are at work today, and sometimes night as well with important problems.  It must be realized too, that a problem be rather important and complex before it is even worthwhile to the labor of setting it up for solution in such a complicated machine.

Punched cards are often used to store scientific data other than tables with the advantages of machine sorting et cetera possible with IBM machines.  Thus at the Caltech wind tunnel data from instruments is punched directly on cards.  Astronomers locate star images by pre-computed co-ordinates on punched cards, and then measure the star positions accurately and record the new information on new cards.  The Census Bureau makes a great deal of use of punched cards at present, but plans are being made to go over to the faster electronic computers for this work.

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Basic flip-flop vacuum-tube circuit used in the ENIAC and in other digital computers.  Tube number 2 – shaded – is conducting, and tube number 1 is “cut-off”, in the diagram above.  A positive pulse on tube 1 will cause it to conduct and the resultant drop in its plate voltage will cause tube 2 to cease conducting.  This condition is stable until another pulse arrives, on the grid of tube 2.  

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Shortly before the war, G.R. Stibitz and others at the Bell Telephone Laboratories developed a relay type of computer which could handle not only real numbers but complex numbers as well.  The binary number system is convenient in a relay computer as we have pointed out.  There is some difficulty entailed in the process of getting from a number expressed in the ordinary decimal system to the binary system and back again.  For this reason Stibitz likes what he calls a bi-quinary system, which uses base 2 to tell if a number is between 0 and 4, or 5 and 9, and base 5 to tell which digit it is of the five.  Early in the war the Army and Navy each ordered one of these relay computers, and machine computation was off to a flying start.

Dr. H.H. Aiken, who had built the IBM computer at Harvard has recently gone over to the relay type of computer, and his “Mark II” will soon be in operation on the complicated guided missile ballistics problems being studied at the Dahlgren Proving Ground.  IBM has also been playing around with relay computers, and has delivered two sequence controlled machines of this type for ballistic research workers.  Aiken does his sequencing with standard teletype tape, while some of the IBM jobs use plugboards.

An interesting example of a similar parallel development is the Zuse computer, named after its designer Conrad Zuse, who developed his machine in Germany during and since the war.  Like the Bell Laboratories machine it uses a keyboard to feed numbers into its relays.  The sequence is prepared in advance by an operator who punches instructions into a strip of film.

The art of machine computation took a tremendous jump ahead when in the fall of 1946 the ENIAC, the first electronic digital machine, was placed in operation.  This machine was built for Army Ordnance at the Moore School of Engineering by J.W. Mauchly, J.P. Eckert and others.  The ENIAC – Electro Numerical Integrator and Calculator – with its eighteen thousand tubes is over a thousand times faster than the relay machines, which in turn were twelve times faster than the original punched card machine at Harvard.  This tremendous increase in speed is the result of shifting over from the use of one gram relay armatures to the use of 10-31 gram electrons as moving parts.  Of course a number of new problems appeared when this one limitation was removed.  They are being cleared up one by one, chiefly by electronic means.

The ENIAC, despite the light weight of its moving parts, is no vest-pocket machine, as the number of vacuum tubes would indicate.  The filaments of these tubes alone require eighty kilowatts of power, and a special blower system is needed to take away the heat.  The whole machine occupies a space about 100 feet by 10 feet by 3 feet.  Tube failures were a source of a good deal of trouble, because for while at least one of the eighteen thousand tubes burned out each time the power was turned on.  This trouble was reduced by leaving the filaments of the tubes on, night and day, to eliminate the shocks involved in heating and cooling, so that now the ENIAC burn-outs at only about one per day, which take on the average of only fifteen minutes to repair.  Experience with this machine has aided the design of a series of successors, such as the EDVAC, the UNIVAC, and the MANIAC – inevitable name.

The most important type of unit in the ENIAC is a device which uses two triode tubes, called a flip-flop circuit.  These tubes will do electrically what the relay does mechanically.  Normally one of the two tubes is conducting current, and the other is “cut off.” A very short – 0.000001 seconds long – pulse of voltage can cause this tube to cut off or cease to conduct, and the other to begin to conduct.  Since only these two stable states are possible, we have the beginning of a binary computer.  We must add a small neon bulb to indicate when the second tube is conducting, and then add as many such units in series as there are binary digits in the number we wish to handle.  These circuits are used as a fast memory device.  The ENIAC has a fast memory of only twenty ten-digit numbers, a serious limitation which can only be overcome by adding to the already large lumber of tubes, or by going to other types of fast memory.

Adding is accomplished by connecting flip-flop circuits in tandem so that they can count series of electrical pulses.  This counting works in the same way that the mileage indicator works in a car, except that the scale of two is used.  Thus, suppose that initially all our flip-flop circuits are in one condition – call it flip.  The first pulse causes the first circuit to go from flip to flop.  The next one will return it to flip, and this causes the first circuit to emit a pulse which sends the second circuit to flop.  This continues on throughout the chain of circuits, all connected in tandem, as long as pulses are fed into the first circuit.  When two series of pulses have been fed in we can get our number by noting which circuits are on flip – binary zero – and which on flop – binary one.  The result may be converted back to pulses for use elsewhere.  The speed per digit in the adding operation is a comfortably short ten microseconds.

The description of the adding scheme above has omitted one added complication in circuit design which gives a considerable simplification in reading of numbers.  The binary system is used to count only to ten in the ENIAC and the number is then converted to a decimal number.  This is a bit of a nuisance, circuit-wise, but handy – the decimal system is familiar.

The ENIAC also has electronic circuits for multiplying, dividing, square-rooting and so forth.  The multiplier uses a built-in electrical multiplication table to aid it in its high-speed, ten digit operation.  One very important unit in the ENIAC is the master programmer, which changes the machine from one computing sequence to another, as a complex computation progresses, in accordance with a pre-set plan.  The master programmer even makes possible connections which enable the machine to choose the proper computing sequence when faced with the necessity for a choice.  Thus it would almost seem that the machine does possess a kind of built-in judgment, and that there is some reason for the term “electrical brain.”

It was mentioned that the fast memory of the ENIAC was limited.  The slow memory, using punch cards, and IBM machines causes a great reduction in speed when it must be used.  Also, although computation is all-electronic, data is fed in and results are taken out by electromechanical means – punch cards again.  The limitations incurred may best be realized if we compare the time for a punch, about half a second, with the unit time of a flip-flop circuit, ten microseconds.  The ratio is fifty thousand times.

Even more serious is the problem common to all digital machines, namely the difficulty of setting up a problem.  These machines are not easy to use, and the sequence of operations for an easy problem may be very involved.  If the problem is difficult, then, of course, the sequence gets more difficult, but the use of machine methods is mandatory.  So, when faced with a real stinger of a problem, the scientist gets down to work, perhaps for months, just to figure out how to set up the machine.  Considerable time is needed for the physical setting up of sequence connections too, but after that – brrrrrrrrrrrrrp, and a solution which would take years by former methods begins to roll out in a matter of minutes.

Professor D.R. Hartree of England, who recently worked with the ENIAC, describes the solution of problem in which this machine had to handle two hundred thousand digits.  Now try writing digits as fast as possible.  At a rate which will lead to errors and writer’s cramp you may put down ten thousand digits in an hour.  Even at this speed it will take twenty hours just to write down two hundred thousand digits – and no computation has been performed.  The machine handled the numbers and performed the computation in this example in four minutes flat.  It is not surprising that Professor Hartree is impressed by such speeds – he once spent fifteen years on the computation of the electron orbits of atoms.  This is the kind of job that a machine calculator can be coerced into doing in a few hours, or days at most.

Their utility to science is obvious!

The ENIAC is only the first of its kind.  The EDVAC – Electronic Discrete Variable Computer – is an improved machine, also built Army Ordnance at the r of Pennsylvania.  One of the chief improvements is a larger capacity memory device, made possible use of acoustical delay lines for storage of numbers.  Numbers get stored as trains of compression pulses is bouncing back and forth in a two-inch column of mercury.  Each delay line of this type does the work of five hundred fifty electronic tubes in the ENIAC, so that a substantial saving results.

The MANIAC – Mechanical and Numerical Integrator and Computer – is another Army Ordnance computer.  It is being built at the Institute of Advanced Study at Princeton under the direction of Dr. J. von Neumann and Dr. H.H. Goldstine.  This machine is to use a new type of fast memory tube which is being perfected by Dr. Jan Rajchman of RCA.  This tube, called the Selectron, is a kind of cathode ray tube which is designed to store four thousand ninety-six off-on or binary signals – equivalent to about twelve hundred decimal digits.  The binary digits are to be stored as charge on points on a cathode screen which are behind the interstices of two orthogonal sets of sixty-four wires each.  An ingenious method of connecting certain of these wires together will enable electric signals to be fed in to pull the electron beam to any position for purposes of reading” or “writing” with just thirty-two leads brought out.  Even so a pre-production model of the tube looks a bit formidable, but it is phenomenally small for the memory it possesses.

Among some of the other schemes for digital memory being worked on are delay networks using loops of wire in wire recorders.  This scheme may not be as fast as the acoustical delay line used in the EDVAC, but it has the advantage that the pulses do not have to be periodically removed for reshaping.  One practical difficulty here is the necessity of waiting for the right point on the wire to come around before reading begins.  Of course all memory of a number can easily be erased when need for it is finished, and the wire loop is ready to be re-used.

It seems that the Selectron is one of the best bets to speed up the operation of all-electronic computers.  With its aid it should be possible to multiply two twelve-digit numbers in one hundred millionths of a second.

Such speeds may seem fantastic, but problems have been formulated and shelved because even the fastest present-day computing machines could not complete the solution in thousands of years.

The Bureau of Standards, aided by Mauchly and Eckert of ENIAC fame and others, is now constructing some new machines of a general purpose type.  This new digital computer is called the UNIVAC – Universal Automatic Computer – and is to be of a general purpose type suited for Bureau of Census work as well as, Army and Navy ballistics and fire control research.  The UNIVAC is to be very compact, using only about eight hundred tubes, and occupying only about as much space as five file cabinets.

It is rather interesting that one of the limitations of this and other digital machines is the slow rate at which numbers are printed at the output.  This limitation may be overcome in future machines by the use of a device called the “Numero-scope,” recently announced by the Harvard Computation Lab.  This device is nothing but a cathode-ray oscilloscope, which can trace the outline of any number, if the right signal is fed into its deflecting plates.  This is no mean trick – it takes six vacuum tubes to make the numeral 2, for example, but it has been done, and numbers may now be flashed on the screen of a cathode-ray tube and photographed with exposures as short as one five-hundredth of a second.

The analogue computer, as we have stated works with analogous quantities rather than with whole numbers.  Thus we may represent quantities by lengths, angles, voltages, velocities, forces and so on.  Thus an electrical or an hydraulic circuit problem may be solved on a mechanical device, while an electrical problem may be solved on a mechanical device.  One simple example of an analogue computer is the slide rule.  Here quantities of any sort are converted into lengths and since a logarithmic scale is used it is possible to multiply by adding lengths.  If a linear scale is used we can add by adding lengths.  Division and subtraction are possible by simply subtracting lengths in each case.

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The basic mechanism in the punched-card machine is the brush and roller combination shown.  As the card passes over a steel roller, metallic brushes make an electrical connection – between A and B in the diagram – and a signal can be produced to reject the card, or set a counter wheel, et cetera.

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If we use angles, or angular displacements, to represent quantities successive displacements readily add to give a total.  We can also use a differential like the one in the rear end of a car to add the angular displacements in two different shafts.  The answer in this case, or a constant factor – gear ratio – times the answer appears on a third shaft.  Direct voltages add conveniently, and alternating voltages add like vector or directed quantities, and so are convenient in the solution of problems involving directed lengths or forces.

Before going any further into discussion of the specific details or these devices it might be well to examine the relative advantages and disadvantages of the analogue type of computer.  In the digital computer the accuracy can usually be increased at the expense of speed, so that if we want to go from 10 digit to 20 digit accuracy we must suffer a decrease to half the original speed.

With the analogue type of computer it is only possible to increase accuracy if the lengths – or angles, or voltages, or whatnot – are measured with greater percentage accuracy.  This may call for watchmaker techniques unless we can afford lengths or other analogous quantities.  The difficulties encountered in any case are such that the accuracy is always much less than in any digital machine.

There are several advantages possessed by the analogue computer which tend to offset the decreased accuracy.  One of these is its greater speed, which results partly from the fact that most problems are more easily set up for solution by analogue methods.  Sometimes the analogue computer is used for a quick look at a problem, to narrow down the field which must be investigated with greater accuracy by the more involved digital computer.  Another advantage possessed by the analogue computer is its ability – if the ability is built in – to perform certain mathematical operations in direct fashion.  Thus, for example, a pivoted rod can be used to give the sine of an angle.  This ability also accounts in part for the greater speed by the analogue method.  Still another advantage is ease with which empirical data in the form of curves may be fed into an analogue machine.

The first successful large-scale analogue computer was the Differential Analyzer designed by Dr. Vannevar Bush and others at M.I.T.  The same type of machine has also been built by General Electric for its own use and for use in various Universities.  The latest and most highly improved of these machines was recently installed at the new engineering school at U.C.L.A.

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1948-08-06: UCLA’s Differential Analyzer Begins Rise to Stardom“, at TomOwens YouTube channel.

Note that this YouTube clip shows the incorporation of the differential analyzer in the movies When Worlds Collide, from 2:00 to 4:13 (full length version here), and, Earth Versus the Flying Saucers, from 4:36 to end (in full-length version at Archive.org, from 59:28 to 107). 

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The differential analyzer is used chiefly for the solution of differential equations.  In view of this fact it is rather strange that the machine cannot differentiate.  However it can integrate, and since this is the inverse of differentiation its mastery over the calculus is quite complete.  (The inverse of an arithmetical process is commonly used by clerks in stores who count back our change, and thus use addition in place of subtraction).  The integrators in a differential analyzer are of the Kelvin wheel-and-disk type in which an integrator wheel rides on a rotating disk, and is turned when the disk turns.  The amount of angular rotation of the integrator wheel depends on its distance, R, from the center of the disk, and the angle the disk turns through, θ.  This, by definition, is the integral of R with respect to θ. 

The integrator is the most important device in the differential analyzer, and as such has received a great deal of attention.  In 1944 G.E. engineers came up with a device in which troubles caused by slipping of the integrator wheel on the disk were virtually eliminated.  This device was essentially a servo follow-up system in which light beams were passed through a polaroid disk attached to a very light integrator wheel.  These light beams then went through other polaroid disks, then to phototubes, to an amplifier and a motor.  The motor then caused the second and third polaroid disks to follow the disk on the integrator wheel with the customary boost in power level, or torque level.

Among other important components in the differential analyzer are the input tables.  At these tables, in the older machines, operators followed plotted curves of functions which were to be fed into the machine with pointers, and thus converted distances on the curve sheets to angular rotations.  In the newer machines light beam photocell servo-mechanisms accomplish the same thing without the aid of skilled operators.  Known functions, of course, are generated by other and simpler means.

Because the differential analyzer handles quantities in the form of angular displacements the process of adding is accomplished by the use of differential gearing.  To solve a differential equation the machine must first be set up so that the right shafts are connected together by the right gear ratios.  When all is ready the data in the form of curves is fed into the machine at the input tables, the known functions are fed in from function generators, and the output pens are moved from left to right, all in synchronism.  Adding wheels, integrators, input table lead-screws and so forth all begin to move and perform the operations required by the equation being solved.  The totals of the quantities on each side of the equation are held equal by a servo-mechanism and the shaft which will give the function which is the desired answer moves the output pen up and down as it is pulled across a sheet of graph paper.  Thus the answer appears as a curve, or a set of curves.

The accuracy of these results depends not only upon the accuracy with which these final curves can be read, but also upon the accuracy of the original data, and the accuracy of the various servos involved in the solution.  Typically, about one-tenth of one percent, or three digit accuracy can be expected.  If some of the components have been forced to accelerate too rapidly because of a poor choice of gear ratio, or if a lead screw has been forced to the end of its travel, the solution may be completely wrong – the analyst still has his headaches.  These troubles are ordinarily avoided by making preliminary runs to determine the proper ranges of operation of all components.

Among the other types of analogue computers commonly used engineering work are the various kinds of network analyzers.  A large electrical power network may be exceedingly complex, due to the more or less random geographical distribution of loads and generating plants.  The effect of short circuits, arc-overs due to lightning, and load distribution must be studied with the aid of models, so that the design of circuit breakers, lightning arresters and so forth can proceed intelligently.  Tests cannot be made on the actual power network, as they can on communication networks, because of the possibility that damage to large and expensive equipment might result.

The earliest type of power network model was the D-C Network Analyzer.  The representation of three-phase alternating current systems by direct-current models of this kind has definite limitations, and the next step was the development of A-C Network Analyzers.  These models, although they represent a three-phase system by a single system are much more versatile than the D-C Analyzers.

We may ask if such models should really be classed as computers.  Fundamentally, these analyzers are merely models of systems which are too complicated for direct analysis, and too large for direct measurement of variables under all possible conditions.  Much the same kind of model-making is carried on in the study of aircraft antennas using model planes and microwaves in place of short waves.  However, if we examine some of the uses to which Network Analyzers have been put, it seems safe to class them as computers.  Because of the use of electrical quantities in these devices and because of the flexibility of interconnections possible, they have been used for the solution of such problems as the flow of microwave energy in wave-guides, the flow of compressible fluids in pipes, and even the solution of Schrodinger’s Wave Equation.

Another type of network analyzer is the Transient Network Analyzer, which can show more clearly what happens in a power network when short circuits and overloads occur.  This device may also be used to study analogous problems such as the amplitude of transient vibrations in mechanical systems when sudden shocks or overloads occur.  The inverse of this kind of thing is the mechanical model used to study what goes on in a vacuum tube.  In these models stretched sheets of dental rubber are used to represent electrostatic fields, and ball bearings serve as electrons.

The differential analyzer is more versatile than the network analyzer discussed above because it can integrate, differentiate – in effect – and multiply, and thus solve rather complicated differential equations.  These functions are performed by mechanical or electro-mechanical devices in the differential analyzer.  If these things could be accomplished by purely electrical means, we would expect a great increase in speed, and some decrease in size and weight.  Such machines have been built by Westinghouse and Caltech, and seem to promise a fair increase in speed over the old differential analyzer.  It seems inevitable that the use of many vacuum tubes will lead to somewhat lower accuracy and less dependability.  Another difficulty with present types of electronic differential analyzers is that integration can only be performed with respect to time as the independent variable, so that the solution of certain problems is not easily possible.

Many other kinds of analogue computers have been perfected in the last few years – the field is definitely “hot.”  Completed designs include such gadgets as the Bell Telephone M-4 Director, which used radar signals to figure out in a twinkling where an antiaircraft gun should be aimed so that the shell and a plane might meet.  Undoubtedly work is in progress on computers which will make possible solution the “problem of delivery” of the modern atomic warhead.  These latter-day buzz-bombs will be sufficiently lethal to warrant their carrying along their own computers.

Many scientists are disconcerted by the fact that by far the greater part of the computer research being carried on today is under the auspices of the Armed Forces.  To be sure, we in the United States seem to be far ahead of anyone else in the world in computers.  This may augur well for National Security if some desperate bludgeoning struggle is soon to occur.  From the longer range point of view it seems that it is particularly desirable that the scientist whose pure research may lead him to yet undiscovered fundamental truths be also equipped with this new and powerful tool.

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Three types of computers.  Top:  General Electric’s A.C. Network analyzer.  Middle:  The differential analyzer – of the analogue computer group – at General Electric.  Bottom:  The Bell Laboratories relay-operated digital computer.

References and Suggested Readings

Network Analyzer (AC power), at Wikipedia

Differential Analyzer, at Wikipedia

The UCLA Differential Analyzer: General Electric in 1947, Video at Computer History Museum

“The Differential Analyzer.  A New Machine for Solving Differential Equations”, by Vannevar Bush, at WorryDream

Differential Analyzer History, at LiquiSearch.com

A Brief History of Electrical Technology Part 3: The Computer, at Piero Scaruffi’s website

No Longer Missing: The Survival of Lt. JG William Robert Maxwell, United States Navy Fighter Squadron VF-11, May 2, 1943 – “A Castaway’s Diary”

“Just before sundown, rain began falling, the wind became stronger, and the waves got higher and higher.  There wasn’t much I could do – I was still weak and not a little scared.  About all I did was to throw out my sea anchor – a small rubber bracket on a 7-foot line – and cover myself with my sail.  Rain fell in torrents and the wind blew all night.  I bailed out water six or seven times during the night with the small cup that the pump fits in and also with my sponge rubber cushion, but there were always 2 or 3 inches of water in the bottom.  The rest of the time, I just huddled under my sail.”

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The posts about the survival and return of Lieutenants Johnson and Landers pertaining to events in 1942, this post focuses on the experiences of Navy Lt. JG William Robert Maxwell in mid-1943.  A member of Navy Fighter Squadron VF-11, Maxwell was not shot down in aerial combat, per se, albeit he was forced to parachute during a combat mission.  This occurred on May 2, 1943, during his squadron’s first week of combat operations, when, while escorting a strike to Munda, his F4F Wildcat’s tail was sliced off by his wingman as the latter was switching fuel tanks.  Successfully parachuting from his fighter, Maxwell took to his life raft, in time successively reaching the islands of Vangunu, Tetepare (Tetepari) and Rendova, being rescued from the latter on May 17. 

While one commonality among the experiences of these three aviators is that they saved themselves by parachuting from their planes (rather than belly-landing or ditching their aircraft), another, more critical element, with I think greater relevance to survival and evasion – notably with Johnson and Maxwell – is that the very circumstances of their predicaments forced them to be self-reliant during much (Maxwell), or all (Johnson), of the time until their rescue.  (Landers didn’t have that problem, meeting native tribesmen very soon after landing!)  On the other hand, a central difference between the Army Air Force pilots and Maxwell is that a life raft was absolutely central to the latter’s survival – at sea.  Landing on land, neither Johnson nor Landers had no such problem.  (Well, Johnson had other problems!)          

Some time after his return, Maxwell wrote a detailed account of his experiences and survival, which was published in Intelligence Bulletin of December, 1943 (available at Archive.org).  As you can read below, where I’ve presented the article verbatim, Maxwell’s account has absolutely no identifying information (well, it was the middle of the war!) except for the calendar dates, and particularly, the first date – May 2 – when he was shot down.  Using this information, DuckDuckGo, and various websites (like Aviation Archeology) I was able to “pin down” the initially anonymous pilot’s name, identity his Squadron, and determine the Bureau Number of his F4F.  That led to Tillman and van der Lugt’s VF-11/111 ‘Sundowners’ 1942–95, which tied all the pieces together, the details matching the account in Intelligence Bulletin.  

Digressing…  Like many “things” one discovers while doing historical research, I found this article, and the journal itself, purely by chance: While researching a post covering a subject vastly different from WW II (albeit quite military in nature) … and then some!  Space Warfare, as described and conjectured in Astounding Science Fiction, in 1939

So, it would seem that researching fiction led to fact. 

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William Robert Maxwell later in WW II, probably while serving with VF-51.

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This is the relevant passage excerpt from Tillman and van der Lugt’s VF-11/111 ‘Sundowners’ 1942–95:

On 25 April 1943, after six weeks in the Fijian islands, CAG-11 departed for Guadalcanal.  White, Cady and Vogel each led one of VF-11’s three elements to their destination, with TBFs providing navigation lead on the 600-mile flight.  The Wildcats made the 4.5-hour flight to Espiritu Santo that day and logged another 4.3 the next, arriving at ‘The Canal’ on Monday the 26th with 34 aircraft.  Two had been delayed en route with mechanical problems, but both shortly rejoined the squadron.  ‘Fighting 11’ settled down at the Lunga Point strip better known as ‘Fighter One’, while Cdr Hamilton’s other three squadrons were based at nearby Henderson Field.  The ground echelon had previously arrived by ship or transport aeroplane and established a tent camp in what intelligence officer Lt Donald Meyer called ‘a delightful oasis of mud and mosquitoes in a coconut grove’. 

The next day VF-11 was briefed by Col Sam Moore, the colourful, swashbuckling Marine fighter commander.  The ‘Sundowners’ were to fly under the tactical control of the US Marine Corps, as the leathernecks had been operating from the island for the past eight months.  Later that morning (the 27th), VF-11’s first patrol from ‘Cactus’ was flown by Lt Cdr Vogel and Lt(jg)s Robert N Flath, William R Maxwell, and Cyrus G Cary.  It was a local flight with nothing to report, but two days later Lt Cdr White led two divisions on an escort to Munda.  The only enemy opposition was anti-aircraft (AA) fire.  Throughout the combat tour VF-11 was blessed with exceptional maintenance.  Prior to any losses, the unit maintained an average 37 of 41 available aircraft fully operational for an initial complement of 38 pilots.  The 90 percent readiness rate was partly due to the Wildcat’s relative simplicity, but it was also a tribute to Frank Quady’s maintenance crew.  The ‘Sundowners’’ mechanics certainly deserved their reputation, as they literally built an extra fighter from the ground up.  Using portions of three or four Marine wrecks, the sailors assembled another F4F-4 which they assigned the BuAer number 11!

At the end of the first week (Sunday, 2 May) VF-11 suffered its first loss.  Sixteen ‘Sundowners’ were escorting a strike to Munda when, south of Vangunu, at 14,000 ft the ‘exec’, Sully Vogel, ran one of his fuel tanks dry and lost altitude while switching tanks.  His element leader, Bob Maxwell, moved to port to regain sight of Vogel and the two Wildcats collided.  Vogel’s propeller sliced off the last six feet of Maxwell’s fuselage (BuNo 11757), the F4F nosing up in a half loop and then falling away in a flat spin.  Maxwell managed to bail out and opened his parachute, but the other Wildcats had to continue the mission.  At 1700 hrs the returning pilots spotted Maxwell in his life raft and reported his position, although it was too late to summon help.  Vogel had aborted the mission, returning with a smashed canopy and rubber marks on one wing from Maxwell’s tyres.  ‘Maxie’ was nowhere to be seen the next morning, and he remained missing for a full two weeks until a PBY Catalina brought him back to Guadalcanal on 18 May after a harrowing, but safe, 16 days in enemy-occupied territory.  The intrepid South Carolinian had sailed his raft to Tetipari, arriving on the 5th.  He walked the length of the island in seven days, encountering a crocodile that claimed dominion over a channel on a coral beach, but otherwise Maxwell met no opposition.  On the 13th he launched his raft for Rendova, where he knew he might contact an Australian coast watcher.  He was met by friendly natives who took him to safety near Segi Lagoon on the 17th. 

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This Oogle Map shows the Solomon Islands.  Vangunu, Tetepare (Tetipari), and Rendova are situated in the “center”, as it were, of the archipelago.  

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Here’s a closer Oogle Map view of Vangunu, Tetepare (Tetipari), and Rendova. 

 

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Finally, an air photo / satellite view of the same three islands.  (This image is from Duck Duck Go, not Oogle.)    

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Also from Tillman and van der Lugt’s VF-11/111 ‘Sundowners’ 1942–95:

Maxwell’s fifth mission had been his last with VF-11, for he was flown to New Zealand, where he spent the next spent two months in hospital, recuperating from his adventure.  Subsequently he joined VF-51, becoming the squadron’s only ace aboard USS San Jacinto (CVL-30) in 1944.

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The original source of Maxwell’s report:  Intelligence Bulletin for December, 1943, from Archive.org.

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And so, here’s Robert Maxwell’s report…

Section III.  A CASTAWAY’S DIARY

1. INTRODUCTION

A U.S. aviator, forced to parachute from his plane in the South Pacific, spent two trying weeks on the sea and on practically uninhabited islands before he was rescued.  He kept a day-by-day account of his experiences, relating how he utilized his equipment, the mistakes he made, and how he obtained food and water.

A condensed version of this pilot’s diary is presented below.  In addition to being interesting, his story is believed to contain lessons which will be profitable for other members of our armed forces.  It is considered that the safe return of this pilot to his squadron should be attributed to his resourcefulness and the intelligent use he made of his equipment.  The fact that he knew where he was and where he wanted to go, and knew how to go about getting there saved him from a great deal of futile wandering and mental distress.

The names of persons and places have been omitted from the story.

2. THE DIARY

May 2 [1943]

The opening of the ‘chute snapped me up short, and I was able to look around and see my plane falling in two pieces – the tail section and about 6 feet of fuselage were drifting crazily downward and the forepart was fluttering down like a leaf.  I tried to ease the pressure of the leg straps on my thighs by pulling myself up to sit on the straps, but was unable to do so because of the weight and bulk of my life raft and cushions.  As a result, my thighs were considerably chafed.

I was so busy looking around that I didn’t notice how fast I was descending, and before I knew it I had hit the water.  The wind billowed the ‘chute out as I went under, and I was able to unfasten my chest strap and left leg strap at once; unfastening the right strap took about 45 seconds, and I held on to the straps as I was pulled along under water by the ‘chute.  I couldn’t understand why I didn’t come to the surface – then I remembered that I hadn’t pulled the CO2 (carbon dioxide) strings of my life jacket.  As soon as I had done this, my belt inflated and I came to the surface.  I immediately slipped my life raft off the leg straps, ripped off the cover, and inflated it.

During my descent I had hooked an arm through my back pack strap so as not to lose it, but during the time I was struggling under water it must have come off because, when I came up, I saw it floating about 20 feet away.  I paddled over and picked it up, along with two cushions – one of which was merely a piece of sponge rubber, 15 inches square and 2 inches thick.

After I got into the boat, I took the mirror from the back pack and discovered a deep gash, about 14 inches long, on my chin and another deep gash, about 3 inches long, on my right shin.  I took out my first-aid kit, examined the contents, and read the instructions.  I found that there was no adhesive tape in the kit – apparently it had not been replaced when the kit was checked on the ship coming down from Pearl Harbor.  I sprinkled sulfanilamide powder on both wounds and put one of the two compress bandages on my leg.  I haven’t any idea how I got either one of these cuts.  During this time I was having brief spells of nausea, but did not vomit.  However, in a short while I had a sudden bowel movement, probably as a reaction from the shock and excitement.  I felt very weak and dizzy.

I began to take stock of my equipment and to figure out where I was by consulting the strip map which I had in my pocket.  My chief aim was to reach the nearest land.

As I sat in the boat, still dazed and faint, I realized that, with the distance and prevailing northeast wind, I had little chance of making one of the larger islands.  As nearly as I could figure out, I was about 10 miles east of a small island and about 10 or 15 miles south of another.  Beyond reaching land I hadn’t formulated any plans except to reach land.

About 50 minutes after I had crashed, I saw a friendly fighter coming toward me from the west, about 50 feet off the water.  I immediately grabbed my mirror and tried to flash the plane.  The pilot wobbled the plane’s wings, came in, and circled, and I saw that it was my wing man.  Five other fighters came down and circled, apparently trying to get a fix on me, and I waved to them.

Soon they went off toward the cast, and I noticed to my consternation that dark cumulus thunderhead clouds were moving in quickly from the northeast and that the sea was getting quite rough.  I realized that no planes would come out for me then because of the approaching dusk.  Just before sundown, rain began falling, the wind became stronger, and the waves got higher and higher.  There wasn’t much I could do – I was still weak and not a little scared.  About all I did was to throw out my sea anchor – a small rubber bracket on a 7-foot line – and cover myself with my sail.  Rain fell in torrents and the wind blew all night.  I bailed out water six or seven times during the night with the small cup that the pump fits in and also with my sponge rubber cushion, but there were always 2 or 3 inches of water in the bottom.  The rest of the time, I just huddled under my sail.

May 3

The rain stopped about daybreak, but the sky was cloudy and the sea still choppy.  Off to the east I saw what appeared to be two friendly fighters in the distance, but I knew they wouldn’t see me.  As day approached, I saw that I had been blown about 10 miles south of the center of the island I was making for.  The, wind was still from the northeast and I knew I would have to paddle like the devil even to hold my own and not be blown farther out to sea.  I broke out one of my six chocolate bars and ate part of it, but I wasn’t hungry.  I also took a swallow out of my canteen, but I wasn’t particularly thirsty.  All day long I rowed with my hand paddles, sitting backward in the raft.  By 1600 my forearms were raw and chafed from rubbing against the sides of the raft.  I had stopped paddling only two or three times during the day, to eat a bite of chocolate and take a swallow of water.  Rain began falling about 1600, and I hit a new low point of discouragement when I realized that I had apparently made no headway at all during the day.

After night fell, the rain continued in intermittent showers until dawn.  The sea was still rough and the wind was from the northeast.  I tried to continue paddling, but a large fish hit my hand – I don’t know what kind it was – in fact, I didn’t even see it, but the experience dissuaded me from rowing any more in the dark.  I threw out my sea anchor again – this time with the two cushions tied on the line for additional weight – and huddled under my sail for the rest of the night.  I don’t recall that I slept this night, or any night before I got to shore – I just seemed to lie in a sort of coma.

May 4

When the sun came up, I found that I was south of the west end of the island and about two miles farther out than I had been the previous morning.  I broke out another chocolate bar for “breakfast,” drank a little water, and began to paddle again.  Some time during the day I got the idea of getting in the water and swimming along with the raft.  The only result of this maneuver was that I lost one of my hand paddles, and I went back to paddling with the remaining paddle and my bare hand.

The results of my continuous paddling were more heartening this day, and by about 1500 I realized that I had covered quite a little distance.  Just about this time, however, a big storm came from the northwest, and it began to rain again.  Again I put out my sea anchor with the cushions tied to it, and settled down under my sail.  It rained off and on all night with a northwest wind.  Although I was never very thirsty, I would catch rain on my sail and funnel it into the pump cup, drink some of it, and use the rest to keep my canteen filled.  Before the storm came that afternoon, the sun had been quite hot and I had kept my head covered with my sail and applied zinc oxide to my face.  Earlier that day I had seen four friendly fighters, going west along the south shore of this island.  I also saw a friendly patrol plane which passed over early every morning and late every evening, but because the sun was so far down each time, I was never able to signal with my mirror.

May 5

At daybreak I saw that I had drifted to a point about 6 miles south of the east end of the island.  I had another chocolate bar for breakfast and a little water, and I was considerably encouraged when I found that the wind was blowing from the southeast.  This meant that I had a very good chance of reaching the island, so I pulled in my sea anchor and began paddling.  Some time during the morning my remaining hand paddle slipped off in the water and, forgetting that I had my life belt inflated, I jumped overboard to retrieve it.  Of course, I couldn’t get under the surface and soon gave up.

I stopped paddling only to take an occasional swallow of water, and about 1800 I came close to the shore.  The surf didn’t look too bad.  I headed right in – a mistake, as it turned out, for as soon as I got in closer I found that the waves were at least 50 feet high (*), the highest surf I’ve ever seen.  About this time a big one broke.in front of me.  It was too late to turn back.  I felt as if I were 50 feet in the air when it broke, and all I could see in front of me was the jagged coral of the beach.  I tried to beat the next one in, but it caught me just after it broke and tossed me end-over-the-kettle into the coral.

Fortunately, I missed hitting the sharpest coral and received only a few cuts on my hands.  My boat landed about 50 feet away in a sort of channel leading into the beach.  I tried to stand up and found that I couldn’t walk.  Finally, I crawled over to the little channel, got my boat, and dragged it up on a small sandy beach.  Since I had tied my belongings rather securely to the raft, the only items that were missing were the pump, the two cushions, and the can of sea marker.  I was very tired and very weak; I turned my raft upside down and lay on it, with my sail over me, trying to sleep, but apparently I was too tired to sleep – I think I only dozed for periods of a few minutes at the most.

May 6

At dawn I began to look for coconuts on the ground and found one mature nut under a tree.  The tree was about 25 feet high, and I immediately set to thinking how I could get more of the nuts off it.  I was, of course, too weak to climb and I thought of cutting notches in the tree.  It was hopeless, and I opened the one coconut.  The seed had already sprouted and there wasn’t much milk in it; since I wasn’t hungry, I ate only a little of the meat.

Instead, I had my usual “breakfast” of a chocolate bar, laid out my things to dry, cleaned my knife and gun as best I could, and rested some more.  Although my .45 had been wet almost constantly and was quite rusty, the moving parts worked all right after I had applied more oil to them.

Then I started out to find some pandanus nuts, having read and reread my guidebook.  I found a few, but they were so high I couldn’t get to them.  In the afternoon I sorted my equipment and rested.  By this time I had decided to try reaching the western end of the island.  I wasn’t sure whether there were any Japs or natives on the island, but thought I might at least run into some natives.

During the day I ran across a crocodile in a channel in the coral beach, but we parted company at once, without incident.  Toward evening, rain threatened.  I made a coconut cup, imbedded it in the sand, and rigged my sail around it so that it would catch water and funnel it into the cup through a small hole in the sail.  The rain began when it got dark.  I settled myself on the ground under a tree and pulled my rubber boat over me for shelter.

May 7

In the morning I worked out a plan for getting some coconuts.  I cut several notches in the trunk of the tree and then made a sort of rope ladder with my sea anchor line, placed this around the trunk so that it would slip, and pushed it up as far as I could.  Climbing up by these means, I was able to reach and twist off two coconuts.  This was pretty exhausting work, so I rested for a while and then filled my canteen with the rain water that had accumulated in the coconut cup.  I drank the milk from the coconut and ate a little of the soft meat, but still I was not very hungry.  My store of chocolate bars was down to two, so I decided to conserve them.

I then packed all my gear in my back pack, rolled up my life raft, and set out to walk along the coast to the west end of the island.  There was a 100-yard stretch of coral between the water and the beach, and it was not bad walking.  Naturally, I was glad I hadn’t discarded by shoes in the water.  Several times I came to channels in the coral, usually at the mouths of small streams, and then I would have to blow up my life belt and swim across.  At one such “place I saw more fish and tried to catch one with my fishing line and pork-rind bait, but the fish declined to bite.

Late in the day I came to a sandy beach, along which I walked until it was dark.  Then I made a crude lean-to of palm fronds against a tree trunk, blew up my life raft, and settled down on it with my sail as a cover.  I smeared zinc oxide on my face – I put either zinc oxide or vaseline on my face each morning and night for protection against sunburn, and also periodically put vaseline on the gash on my shin and on my hands, which were cracked from the salt water.  The sulfanilamide powder was rather water-soaked, so I used vaseline instead.  Aside from a daily quinine pill, that was the extent of my doctoring.  Fortunately, the gash on my chin had closed pretty well.

That night I woke up from one of my periods of dozing to find that the tide had come in.  I scrambled around, moving my gear to a dry spot, and discovered that the tide had carried away my sail and my shoulder holster.  Luckily, I had my .45 close to my side, but one of the two clips in the holster contained all my tracer bullets.

May 8

In the morning, after I had eaten half of my remaining chocolate bar, I started walking again.  Most of the time I walked in the water up to my knees.  Soon the coral ledge ended and I had to strike inland because I couldn’t get through the immense surf that was washing against the high rock and coral of the shore.  I would go inland a little way, parallel the coast by clambering up and down the ridges, and then go back to the shore to see if I could make my way along it.  During the day I saw two more crocodiles in a small lagoon and my only snake, a small blue snake about 1 1/2 feet long with a flat tail.  During the day I found several coconuts along the beach and on the ground, and I drank the milk.  As dusk came on, I was inland, climbing one of the ridges.  It began to rain.  I put my life jacket and back pack on the ground, under a log, and lay on my deflated life raft.  It rained all night, and by morning I was lying in mud.

May 9

During the morning I crossed more ridges, which ran down to the shore from the central range.  This was pretty tiring – mostly I would zigzag up them, and then slip and slide down.  I was always hopeful that I would be able to make my way along the coast, but this was impossible.  During the day I ate some fern leaves and the remainder of my last chocolate bar.  At dusk I came down to the coast to see whether I had rounded a particular rocky point.  I found that I hadn’t, and decided to spend the night in a small cave in the coral, which was about 100 feet above and 150 feet back from the water.  I slept on my back pack and life jacket and used my deflated raft as a cover.  After sleeping spasmodically, I was awakened at dawn by a wave breaking at the entrance to the cave.

May 10

In the morning, rain was falling and the wind was blowing; I could make little headway over the rocks and coral so I took to the ridges again.  I ate some ferns, and about 1450 I came onto the shore where there was a good sandy beach.  The hills were smaller, and there was a grove of coconut palms.  I was near the end of the island and could see the next one about 2 or 3 miles across the channel.  In the shallow water I found two small crabs and about eight mussels.  I ate the crabs raw, and, putting the mussels in my pocket, headed for a small bay.  It was a fine afternoon and I built a lean-to of sticks and palm fronds and blew up my raft.  I then tried some of the mussels and found that they were rather unpleasantly slimy.  When I ate the rest the next day, I washed them first and they tasted pretty good.   It rained that night, and since my lean-to did not prove to be as water-proof as I had expected, I got under my boat.

May 11

The next morning I rested, and ate the meat and drank the milk of a few coconuts.  I decided not to build a fire because of the possibility of attracting Japs, but to get to the next island and try to make contact with the natives.  I filled my canteen from a stream.  Late in the afternoon a number of friendly bombers and fighters came over going west and soon returned.  Both times I used my mirror to try to attract their attention.  I was quite weak and tired, but built a new and better lean-to.  That night I dozed fitfully and the mosquitoes were quite annoying.  The only other noteworthy incident that day was my first bowel movement since the one immediately after parachuting into the sea.

May 12

In the morning I washed my clothes and set about making some oars.  I found two small pieces of lumber with a few nails and a screw in them, and, using the nails and a screw, I attached two sticks to the pieces of lumber to make a serviceable pair of oars.  Then I ran my sea anchor line around my boat through the rings, and attached to it another piece of rope that I had found.  I made two loops in the rope for oar locks.  By looping the rope around my feet I could get leverage for rowing.  I used some sponge rubber from my back pack to make pads for oars.  I slit my back pack and inserted a couple of sticks; this provided me with a sail.  When I had completed my preparations in the evening, I gave my craft a brief shake-down cruise, dined on coconuts, and went to sleep.1

May 13

With the meat of two coconuts and my canteen of water as provisions, I set out early in the morning on my voyage to the next island.  I went out to sea through a break in the reef and soon found that, although my course was due west, I was heading northwest.  This was due to a north-northeast wind, and I rowed constantly because of the possibility of being blown south Of the hook of the island.  About noon I headed into a sandy beach on the south shore of the hook and again found to my dismay that I had underestimated the size of the surf.  The waves caught me and tossed me onto a fairly smooth coral ledge.  I was under water for what seemed a very long time – actually about 45 seconds – but managed to hold onto my boat.  As I struggled to my feet I heard someone shouting and was overjoyed to see two natives in a canoe about 50 yards off shore waving to me.

I got into the canoe with all my gear except the back-pack cover and we started east to the south shore of the point, where we met two more natives in another canoe and put into the beach.  The natives brought some water and a taro from a hut.  After a while we started around the point and along the shore.  The natives asked me if I were thirsty, and when I said that I was, we again put into the beach and went into another hut, where I saw a collapsible Japanese boat.  One of the natives climbed a 50-foot coconut palm and brought me some coconuts.

Finally we pushed on to a village about halfway up the coast.  There I was greeted by the chief.  After being given pineapple and taro, I was taken to another hut where it was indicated that I was to sleep.  I was given a corner of a low platform, a clean bamboo mat, and a pillow and blanket.  After eating more pineapple and taro, I talked mostly with the chief’s son, who had been to a mission school and was quite interested in America.  After dark we all went to sleep.

Traveling from island to island for three days, the natives managed to get me to the U.S. outpost, where I was picked up and carried back to my organization.

(*) This height, estimated by the writer, is believed to be excessive.

References

Intelligence Bulletin, V II N 4, December, 1943, Military Intelligence Division, War Department, Washington, D.C.

Tillman, Barret; van der Lugt, Henk; Holmes, Tony, VF-11/111 ‘Sundowners’ 1942–95 – Aviation Elite Units 36, Osprey Publishing Company, London, England, 2012

No Longer Missing: The Survival of Second Lieutenant Clarence T. Johnson, Jr., 7th Fighter Squadron, 9th Fighter Group, June 15, 1942

“Finally the boat stopped and was quiet for a time, but I continued calling until I heard answering voices.  I thought them to be a group of soldiers out for an outing trip just for the fun of it.  The finally found me, however, and got me down out of the tree; it was then I learned they were a searching party looking for me, and they had searched for two days.  They later told me that they had no idea I was there and did not hear my calls until the motor had stopped.  Jack Murray had the black Abo trackers with him and one of them wanted to stop and take a look at the shore at this point.  Jack Murray did not want to stop but the Abo insisted so he pulled up to shore just to please the Abo.  It was then they heard my yells for the first time.  It seemed almost as if the Abo had had some sort of premonition of my being there and would not go on without first investigating.” 

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Paralleling the previous account of the shoot-down, survival, and return of Lieutenant John D. Landers, “this” post focuses on the survival of another 9th Fighter Squadron pilot whose story is related in Steve W. Ferguson and William K. Pasaclis’ Protect & Avenge: the 49th Fighter Group in World War II: First Lieutenant Clarence T. Johnson, Jr.  

Johnson’s survival and rescue occurred half a year earlier than that of Landers:  On June 15, 1942, during the 7th Fighter Squadron’s engagement with Zero fighters while intercepting G4M bombers over the Cox Peninsula, in Australia’s Northern Territory.  Akin to the account of Landers in Protect & Avenge, Johnson’s bail-out and survival comprise four sentences of text.  But, the full story of his survival, recorded in the historical records of the 7th Fighter Squadron – below – is at once dramatic, compelling, and powerful, given the starkly remote nature of the area where he landed by parachute, which in some ways seems as inhospitable – if not moreso? – than that of New Guinea.  And, on an intangible level, his survival was attributable to an element of chance – and much more than chance alone – for he was ultimately returned back to the land of the living due to the intuition of a native Aboriginal tracker.

So, akin to the post about Landers, this post includes Ferguson and Pascalis’ account of the December 26, combat, below, followed by a verbatim transcript of Landers’ own story, from AFHRA Microfilm Reel AO 720.  The post also includes an image from Protect & Avenge, and some maps from our lord and master (we love  oligarchy!) Oogle. 

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THE THIRD RAID; JUNE 15th

The raiders repeated the same tactics with 21 fighters preceding 27 high flying bombers on the next day.  Of the 28 Warhawks that went aloft, the 8th Squadron was again unable to break through the escorts and could not hit the bombers in the initial contact over Beagle Gulf.  The 9th and 7th Squadrons again were heavily engaged.

The 9th FS was routinely up above Darwin proper with 2 Lts. George “Red” Manning leading the flight of wingmen Tom Fowler, Clay Peterson and “crocodile bait” Bob McComsey who had only recently returned to flight status.  Red Manning was a short, sandy-haired German-American who loved to argue and set up a personal confrontation with an element of the 3rd Ku directly above the docks.  After wingman Fowler joined in the fray, and McComsey with wingman Peterson followed, three ZEROs reeled out of the fight.

The enemy bombers had reached the docks by this time, dropped their ordinance and set fire to some of the nearby buildings.  Even the convalescing Van Auken and his attending physician were forced to seek refuge beneath the Major’s hospital bed as bombs struck near the Kahlin dispensary.  As the raiders turned west and began to accelerate in a descent over Cox Peninsula, they were met by the 7th Squadron.

The Screamin’ Demons were in two flights at 24,000 feet to ensure they would intercept the bomber formation which had been missed at their higher altitudes in the two previous raids.  With Blue Flight led by ace Ops Exec Hennon, and Red Flight led by Squadron Deputy CO Capt. Prentice, they dived to the left rear quarter attack on the G4M raiders, but only Hennon and wingman 2 Lt. C.T. Johnson closed to within firing range before the ZEROs intervened.  Johnson lost power momentarily and a ZERO quickly cut him off from his flight.  The 3rd Ku aviator riddled the sputtering Warhawk, and Johnson tried to escape in the stricken fighter, but the Allison engine caught fire.  He bailed out at nearly 18,000 feet over hazy Cox Peninsula (as of 2016, reportedly with a population of 15 people).

In the meantime, Red Flt Ldr Prentice and wingman 2 Lt. Claude Burtnette had engaged two escorts and both men opened fire, sending the ZEROs spinning down toward the Gulf.  Second Lt. Gil Portmore in the second Red element also fired a broad deflection volley at a third ZERO which plunged downward, but the Demons were quickly overwhelmed.  Red Flight was engaged by an enemy quartet and in the ensuing maneuvers, the Demon team split up.  After shaking a ZERO off his tail, Burtnette of Blue Flight set off alone after the escaping bombers beyond Cox Peninsula, but was attacked again off the west shore by a 3rd Ku escort whose 20mm cannon fire blew off the ammo bay panel from the top of his right wing.  He bailed out into the sea just west of Indian Island and floated in his Mae West vest while Capt. Hennon circled over his downed wingman until the ZEROs left the area.  Burtnette reached Quail Island over two hours later and was spotted by a pair of RAAF Wirraway patrol planes who radioed his location to the Navy.  The Australian lugger Kuru picked him up early the following morning from the north beach of Quail Island.

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(Johnson’s original account, from AFHRA Microfilm Reel AO 720)

REPORT OF LIEUT. JOHNSON
7TH Pursuit Squadron

Report of Lieutenant Clarence T. Johnson, Jr., 7th Pursuit Squadron, who parachuted from his plane following engagement with the enemy.  Lt. Johnson reports as follows:

We went up when the alert was sounded at about 11:45 a.m. June 15, and intercepted the enemy bombers at about 25,000 feet when they were heading away from where they had dropped their bombs.  I attacked a formation of bombers picking on one that was lagging behind, came right in on his tail and firing a burst into the rear of the ship.  The gunner was firing on me all the time and I evidently failed to hit anything as he kept us his fire.  I then heard bullets in my plane ripping up the canopy and I thought I had been jumped by Zeros, so I cut away quickly but could not see any Zeros.  I then made a deflection shot at another bomber in the middle of the formation and at that time my motor R.P.M. dropped off and then stopped completely smoke pouring out very badly.  I was ahead of bombers and dropped down trying to gain speed to come up under the belly of the bombers, got the nose up and took a long shot at them but did nothing.  I tried to head my plane back to the field, but the haze was so bad from forest fires etc., that I could not get directions just right.  I was calling in on my radio all the time telling them I was coming down and tried to stay with it as long as possible.  Evidently my canopy had been hit by bullets as there were holes ripped in it about six inches long.  I pulled the emergency release and it flew open.  I tried to get my canteen out but it was stuck in beside the seat and I could not get it loose before bailing out.  The flame was then coming from the plane so I rolled it on its back and fell out.  As I did so my leg hit the rudder or some other part.  I opened my ‘chute immediately my boots being jerked off at the same time.  I was at approximately 18,000 feet when I bailed out.  While coming down I took a piece of paper from my pocket and tried to map out the area I was going down in.  There had been several planes around up until this time but [I] did not see any after that.  I landed in a burned out area with numerous stumps and trees sticking up, and I was lucky not to land in one.  As I was coming down I thought I saw a stream of water about one and one half miles to the west, so I picked up and went in that direction and found a large spring in a clump of green trees, so I established camp there.

After resting a while I cut two panels out of my parachute and made ropes from the shroud lines and ripped up two white flags which I put in the top of the highest trees.  Then I spread my parachute on the ground and made myself a cup of hot chocolate with water from the spring.  I could not sleep until night and then I got up at about 3:30 or 4:00 o’clock in the morning with the intention of wandering toward the river which I thought I saw the day before.  When I was almost there I discovered that I had left my compass at the camp along with my other equipment and decided to return for it before it was too late.  I got lost and never found the camp.  I wandered around for several hours and finally about noon I came upon the river again.  I noticed the current flowing one way and thought it must be down stream, as I followed the river all that day and late into the night spending the remainder of the night on the banks.  Early the next morning I saw planes flying around from time to time but they did not see me and I had no way of signaling them, so there was nothing I could do.  I followed the river all the way and finally came upon the source of the stream instead of the mouth which I expected.  It was fed by [a] large fresh water spring.  I spent the night there.  I arose early in the morning with the intention of walking the length of the stream to the coast where I expected to find food stores.  I also thought of finding an Abo camp which I thought might be near, and where food etc., could be obtained.  As I walked down the river I swam from side to side so that I could not miss any camps or food stores which might be on either side.  Often I could not see the river for the dense undergrowth bushes which grew along the banks.  On the fourth night I was getting very hungry and weak as I had had absolutely no food since the first day.  When I bailed out of the plane there were four shells in my gun three of which I had shot.  I was saving the last one for myself.  I was in the water for about four hours trying to cut my way through the mangrove growth to get to the shore as I was positive the ocean was near.  Finally made my way through the swamp where the mud was waist deep and I picked out a good place to spend the night.  I was about to make camp when I heard what sounded like a motor boat gradually growing louder and louder.  I thought this must be my last chance, so I automatically climbed a tree, fired my .45 and began yelling, but the boat kept going and I kept telling.  Finally the boat stopped and was quiet for a time, but I continued calling until I heard answering voices.  I thought them to be a group of soldiers out for an outing trip just for the fun of it.  The finally found me, however, and got me down out of the tree; it was then I learned they were a searching party looking for me, and they had searched for two days.  They later told me that they had no idea I was there and did not hear my calls until the motor had stopped.  Jack Murray had the black Abo trackers with him and one of them wanted to stop and take a look at the shore at this point.  Jack Murray did not want to stop but the Abo insisted so he pulled up to shore just to please the Abo.  It was then they heard my yells for the first time.  It seemed almost as if the Abo had had some sort of premonition of my being there and would not go on without first investigating.  They made me some hot tea and heated me some stew – the first food I had eaten in four days.  I was then taken to an Abo camp which was about a half day’s journey arriving in the evening.  There was a government lugger across the bay where they took me for a good bed.  Sub Lieut. Secrest [sic] was in command and they fixed up my feet and gave me a good bed for the night.  The motor of the boat had gone out and they used sails to take us gradually toward Point Charles.  Late in the afternoon the wind gave out and the current was against us, so they radioed in for a tow.  They had also sent a message the evening before that I had been rescued.  At about 7:30 a boat came out and towed us in and I was taken to the Darwin Hospital where I spent the night.  I had gone five days without food of any kind – Monday noon to Saturday noon – when I was rescued.  I kept trace of time by making nicks in my ring with a finger nail file.

I would recommend that some sort of signaling equipment be provided all pilots such as a very pistol, flares, or some sort of rocket.  Also, in this section there always are fires burning, and if some sort of chemical could be had that would make a distinguishing colored smoke when placed in the fire, it would be easy to locate the lost pilot.  I also advise all pilots to wear some sort of strap-on boots that cannot be jerked off when the pilot bails out of his ship.  It is a good idea to wear coveralls as a protection for the legs and carry a gun and knife.  Never wander off unless you know exactly what you are doing and always carry compass.  Don’t throw away any equipment as you can make shoes out of parachute cover etc., and don’t cut the pants legs off.  Above all don’t get excited or hysterical; think things out reasonably; use your head; and don’t get discouraged and give up.  But don’t drive yourself and use all your energy in one day; conserve as much of your energy as you can.  A slow steady pace will make your energy last longer.

CLARENCE T. JOHNSON, Jr.
2nd Lt., Air Corps.

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A little over five months after Lt. Johnson’s rescue, the San Bernardino Sun published an article about his military service.  The article was found at the California Digital Newspaper Collection of the University of California at Riverside Center for Bibliographical Studies and Research.  

LT. JOHNSON, FIGHTING ARMY PILOT, HONORED

San Bernardino Sun
October 23, 1942

S.B. Youth Again Decorated for Valor in Action Against Japs in South Pacific

Lieut. Clarence T. Johnson Jr., son of Major and Mrs. C.T. Johnson of San Bernardino, again has been decorated for heroism while serving with the U.S. Army Air Force in Australia, according to word received in San Bernardino yesterday.

Previously he had been awarded the silver star for action near Darwin, Australia, June 13, and the purple heart for bravery in an aerial battle over Horn island March 14 in which he was wounded.

Lieutenant Johnson was awarded oak leaf dusters, his latest decoration, at Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s Headquarters.  The presentation was made by Major-Gen. George C. Kenney.

SHOOTS DOWN ZERO

The award was in recognition of two recent encounters with the enemy.  In the most recent action, Lieutenant Johnson was piloting a P-40 over Horn Island off northern Australia when he was Intercepted by a formation of Jap planes.

In a swift air battle, Lieutenant Johnson, succeeded in shooting down one zero fighter and then escaped without damage to his ship.

The silver star award was for his attack on 27 Jap bombers near Darwin.  The assault was so successful that three or four enemy planes were caught in bursts from his machine guns and disabled.  Lieutenant Johnson continued the attack after one motor of his ship [? – !] was disabled.  His plane burst into flames and he was forced to bail out.

LOST IN JUNGLE

Upon landing, he found himself in wild jungle and swamp, through which he had to make his way unaided for six days before reaching his base. 

His absence resulted in a report that he was “missing.” 

Major Johnson, former San Bernardino mayor, is now in charge of an army recreation camp at Brunswick, Ga.  Mrs. Johnson was executive secretary of the San Bernardino chapter of the Red Cross until she resigned a few months ago to join Major Johnson.

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“7th FS cadre veteran C.T. Johnson (left), red flight leader Frank Nichols and veteran A.T. House cited at 14 Mile Field immediately after their part in the Lae convoy strike on January 7th.”  (From Protect & Avenge)

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Australia! – care of Oogle maps.  The general location of the Cox Peninsula, in the Northern Territory, is indicated by the red oval.  

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Zooming in onto the Cox Peninsula, again denoted by a red oval.  Note the city of Darwin to the east, separated from the Cox Peninsula by the Beagle Gulf / Port Darwin / Fannie Bay.    

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This map, from Protect & Avenge, gives a general view of geographic features surrounding Darwin, with the locations of 49th Fighter Group aircraft losses – which specifically resulted in fatalities to pilots or personnel – denoted, for a total of ten such symbols.  Since Johnson survived, by definition there is no such symbol for his shoot-down.  

 

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Oogling in for a map view of the Cox Peninsula.  Though Darwin, the capital of Northern Australia, has appreciably grown since WW II (according to Wikipedia, the population is now over 147,000), note the barren appearance of the Cox Peninsula.  Other than Wagait Beach, there’s not much in the way of human habitation.   

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An equivalent air photo / satellite view of the above map.  

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The northern shore of the Cox Peninsula, showing the location of the Point Charles Lighthouse, mentioned in Johnson’s report.  The lighthouse faces the Beagle Gulf.    

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Zooming in even further, the lighthouse is in the center of this image.  

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And now for something completely different.  (Albeit unsurprising in the world of 2021.)  When I was putting together this post and perusing Oogle Maps / Oogle Street view, I couldn’t help but notice the presence of a McDonald’s Restaurant (on Bagot Road, in the Aboriginal Community of Bagot) in Darwin’s northern inner suburb of Ludmilla.  Something tells me that this street had a markedly different appearance back in 1942…  

References

Ferguson, Steve W. and Pascalis, William K., Protect & Avenge: the 49th Fighter Group in World War II, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, Pa., 1996

Hess, William N., 49th Fighter Group: Aces of the Pacific, Osprey Publishing Company, London, England, 2014

AFHRA Microfilm Reel A0720, frames 1059 and 1060 (Johnson – 6/15/42)

Point Charles Lighthouse, at Geocaching Australia

Point Charles Lighthouse, at Wikipedia

No Longer Missing: The Survival of First Lieutenant John D. Landers, 7th Fighter Squadron, 9th Fighter Group, December 26, 1942

“Upon looking down I realized the ‘chute had opened just in time, because I was right in the tree tops, having bailed out at a very low altitude.  After landing in the trees which were about seventy-five to one hundred feet high I finally succeeded in cutting myself loose and scaled down three different vines before reaching the ground.  The jungle was so thick I could not even find my jungle pack which I had pitched from the tree.”

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A central, natural theme of the literature of military aviation – regardless of the era, geographic theater, or level of technology – has revolved around accounts of aerial combat, particularly between fighter planes.  However, even with the fascination inherent to such tales on historical, intellectual, and even emotional levels, they’re often characterized by a kind of…  Well, on a literary level … sense of “roteness” … to the point where an author could “swap out” opposing pilots aircraft types and nationalities; even change the very conflict in question, and create a tale having a similar – if not the same? – literary and emotional impact.    

However, in another respect, the literature of military aviation is often characterized by a theme of a different nature.  That lies not in stories about aerial victories, military awards, technology, camouflage and markings, and aircraft “nose art”, but instead in accounts about the survival of aviators who did not, n e c e s s a r i l y (!) emerge completely victorious – or victorious at all, in any way! – from engagements with an enemy.  Stories of endurance, perseverance, and survival in settings where climate, geography, remoteness from immediate aid, and sometimes a combination of injury and isolation render a downed pilots’ chance of survival problematic at best, and minimal at worst.  Of course, this doesn’t even begin to take account of the possibility of capture by enemy forces, let alone the sometimes much worse threat posed by enemy civilians…

Well, there are myriads upon myriads (upon many?!) such tales in the popular literature of military aviation, and in “this” post you’ll be able to read such an account: It’s the story of the shoot-down and survival of Lieutenant John D. Landers on December 26, 1942, during the 9th Fighter Squadron’s (49th Fighter Group’s) encounter with Ki 43 Oscars of the Japanese Army Air Force’s 11th Sentai over eastern New Guinea.  The story of this aerial engagement can be found in Steve W. Ferguson and William K. Pascalis’ Protect & Avenge: the 49th Fighter Group in World War II (1994), where Lander’s experiences – after bailing of his P-40 – comprise a single paragraph.  Having access to the original historical records of the 9th Fighter Squadron (in digital form, from the AFHRA), I was able to find the account composed by Landers himself, after his rescue and eventual return to the 9th Fighter Squadron.  

This is not at all meant as a criticism of Protect & Avenge, for this fine book (any substantive aviation history, really) would be both prohibitively lengthy and expensive were it to include each and every facet of information from historical records.  

The post includes Ferguson and Pascalis’ account of the December 26, combat (immediately below) followed by a verbatim transcript of Landers’ own story, from AFHRA Microfilm Reel AO 720.  Also included are images from Protect & Avenge, William N. Hess 49th Fighter Group: Aces of the Pacific, and some maps and air / satellite images showing New Guinea, zooming in on the location of Pongani village, which location is central to the story.

As for 1 Lt. Lieutenant John D. Landers himself?  He eventually rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, being credited with 14.5 aerial victories: six in the Pacific while serving in the 9th Fighter Squadron, and eight and a half in the European Theater while serving with the 38th, 357th, and 78th Fighter Squadrons, of the – respectively – 55th, 355th, and 82nd Fighter Groups of the 8th Air Force.  

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THE BEST VS. THE BEST; DECEMBER 26, 1942

As the 49ers shuttled men and planes at Moresby, the JAAF 11th Sentai began their active participation in the operations from Malahang strip, northeast of Lae Village.  After a number of small reconnaissance flights, the OSCARs flew a sweep in force to the south in the improved weather of mid-morning on December 26th.

Likewise, the second Warhawk patrol lifted off from the fields at Port Moresby between the intermittent rain showers and coasted over the Owen Stanley Mountains toward the Buna area.  Senior Lt. “Big John” Landers led a dozen Warhawks with White Flight at 14,000 feet, Blue Flight at 10,000 and Red Flight at 8,000, all meant to orbit over Buna.  Just as they arrived, the Dobodura air controller urgently called for fighter cover.  “ZEKEs” were strafing the landing area and attacking a flight of RAAF Hudson transports, one of which carried none other than Gen. Blarney, head of the Allied army in New Guinea.  Landers ordered “tanks off” and the Flying Knights peeled off for the interception.

The “ZEKEs,” of course, were the Lae OSCARs that had caught the Hudsons at low altitude.  As the OSCARs separated momentarily in their mad chase after the RAAF bombers, Landers’ Red and Blue Flights burst out of the hazy overcast and struck the enemy over Dobodura airfield.  The Knights latched onto their targets and a vicious dogfight raged from 5000 feet down to the tree tops.

Blue Flight engaged first as veteran element leader Jim “Duckbutt” Watkins and wingman Art Wenige held together to make two coordinated passes against the OSCARs.  Blue Leader Bill Levitan and wingman Bill Sells separated in the first hard turn, but they quickly bested a pair of enemy fighters beneath the hazy overcast.  Before the Blue quartet was forced to break off due to low ammo and fuel, Levitan, Sells, Watkins and Wenige each claimed to have destroyed one the assailants.  As for Red flight, things turned out differently for Darwin veteran John Landers.

In Red Flight’s attack descent through the broken overcast, Landers’ elements lost formation and remained dangerously separated throughout the fight.  In his first combat engagement, wingman 2 Lt. Bob McDaris claimed a “ZEKE” destroyed and another heavily damaged, but failed to relocate his flight leader.  “Mac” made a solo retreat for Moresby.  Likewise, 2 Lt  John “Baggie” Bagdasarian had chased an OSCAR off the tail of Blue Flight’s Watkins, but Baggie’s old stager could not stand the strain and he set the P-40E with its blown Allison engine down safely at Dobodura.

Landers, flying #75 THE REBEL (formerly CO Irvin’s old ship), plunged right into the midst of a regrouping flight of six OSCARs, and took them all on at once.  Big John’s wild aerobatics in the REBEL so startled his opponents that he bested two of them before the odds overcame him.  One of the sentai masters finally swung his nimble Ki-43 in behind Landers and the lone Knight could not shake free.  The REBEL was perforated by a long, accurate stream of 7mm tracers.

Landers broke down and away for the safety of the foothills to the south, but his pursuer riddled the REBEL again before he could drop behind the crest of the forested terrain.  Big John pulled back his canopy, stepped out on the wing and was swept off in the slipstream at 1000 feet of altitude.  He was jolted in the straps below the burst of his chute and fell into the dense forest due east of the coastal village of Pongani.

The hefty pilot survived a rough tumble through the limbs of a tall tree and came to rest in a dense thicket that took several hours to negotiate.  Once able to find better footing in a stream, after three days, Landers eventually waded to a small village not far from Pongani.  The tribal elder there graciously took a personal liking to the six foot, four inch “plenty whitey goodfella.”  They gave the blond giant food and shelter for the night, and on the next day, a native party escorted Landers down the trail to Pongani village.  Big John soon caught the next transport flight for Port Moresby.

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(Landers’ original account, from AFHRA Microfilm Reel AO 720)

Combat Report of 1st. Lieut. JOHN D. LANDERS, 0-431968,
9th Fighter Squadron, 49th Fighter Group.

On December 26, 1942, the red flight of which I was leader and including Lt. R.A. Francis, Lt. R.A. McDaris and Lt. W.D. Sells took off at 0945 o’clock for patrol over Buna.  My flight was split up due to radio disturbance and poor reception, leaving two two-ship elements.  We were patrolling at about 3,000 feet.  At 11:15 o’clock Wewoka called and said that enemy aircraft were strafing Dobodura.  At 11:17 I dropped my belly tank, turned on my gun switches and dove down to 1,000 feet directly behind a Zero.  I got to within 200 feet of the Zero before I fired.  As I squeezed the trigger a trail of black smoke came from the Zero and it immediately blew up.  This was the first of three Zeros which were attacking an allied transport.  I turned into the second one which was also in a turn.  I fired a burst ahead of him and through him.  I turned back around and followed him and got another burst into him as I was turning to my left and he was turning into me.  While firing the second bust, which was a long one, I could see that the Zero was smoking, and I expected it to blow up like the first one but it burst into flames and went down.  At this time I observed about eighteen to twenty holes in my left wing and immediately banked over to my left at which time I saw a third Zeke firing at me.  I pulled over this Zero and started into an intense dog fight at about 1,000 feet.  He hit me with three different bursts, all deflection shots, and I felt certain that this was one of “Tojo’s hot pilots”.  One burst hit the wing, another his across the nose and in the engine and the other one across my tail section.  My engine was smoking badly from underneath.  During the latter part of the dogfight I was beginning to lose power, so I turned away from the Zero toward a gap between the mountain tops of the Hydrographer’s range and the clouds, just a small opening, but I headed right for it.  My engine started running rougher and smoking more, so I prepared to bail out if my engine stopped.  Just before I got to the mountain range my engine started missing fire and then quit altogether just as I cleared the mountain top.  I lowered my nose to keep from stalling out, rolled back my canopy, cut my switches, unfastened my safety belt and prepared to jump.  I banked to the left about 15 degrees, stuck out my left arm and shoulder and head and let the wind suck me out.  About half way out my feet got caught and I had to kick them free.  Just as I saw the tail of my plane go by I pulled the rip cord.

Upon looking down I realized the ‘chute had opened just in time, because I was right in the tree tops, having bailed out at a very low altitude.  After landing in the trees which were about seventy-five to one hundred feet high I finally succeeded in cutting myself loose and scaled down three different vines before reaching the ground.  The jungle was so thick I could not even find my jungle pack which I had pitched from the tree.  While in the tree I could hear a running stream which seemed very near but which took me forty-five minutes to reach due to the intense jungle.  Upon reaching the stream I started walking up stream to a village which I had sighted while in the air.  After walking for six hours I came upon a native woman with two kids.  She was so startled to see me that she started bellowing like a cow until the whole village came.  They led me to a shack and built a fire just outside; it was raining.  We sat around and made signs and I tried to make myself understood as to what I wanted done and where I wanted to go.  There were only three words the natives in the village could say, namely: Jap, American and machine gun.  I gave them many gifts, shiny objects.  They fed me paw paw, bananas and sweet potatoes.  We then went back to the village on a mountain about a mile from where I bailed out.  It only took us about two hours to reach this destination by native trails.  They showed me .50 calibre ammunition they had taken from my plane, approximately where it had landed.  This proved a help in getting them to lead me to the plane later.  I made them understand that I wanted them to take me to my plane the following day.  Just before dark a group of natives came up with my parachute, which they had removed by climbing the tree.  The ‘chute was badly torn from having caught on the branches.  I learned it might be a good idea to remain with the ‘chute because the natives seemed to have no trouble in finding the ‘chute, as they indicated that they watch the sky when hearing combat.  I later used part of the ‘chute as cover.

There was only one shack in this village on the mountain top which was about two miles actually from the village.  This shack was a grass hut about twenty by fifteen feet and about four feet high.  That night when I got ready to go to bed they cleared a place in one of the corners, laid a mat down for me to sleep on, gave me the chute to cover with and the air cushion for a pillow.  They fed me again by cooking green bananas over the fire and sweet potatoes.  There were 23 natives and myself in this hut those two nights.  The first morning in the jungle we awoke at seven o’clock.  The men, women and children, the latter ranging from four and five up, sat around for an hour and smoked.  At eight o’clock we started eating, a meal which consisted of cooked bananas, sweet potatoes and paw paw.  Then they started combing their hair and primping up for the day; the men shaved with old double edge blades which upon examination must have been a pulling action.  Each man carried a mirror.  This lasted until nine o’clock and I afterwards learned that this was daily routine with this group of natives.

We started out on a march to my plane which lasted about two hours.  Upon arriving there I could see that the plane was beyond saving.  The plane did not burn but was completely demolished.  I especially checked on radio equipment and everything was completely broken up including instruments.  I sat around until about two o’clock and watched them take the souvenir pieces from the mountain side.  I was amused to note that the women carried the whole load back to the camp.  I spent that evening in the hut with the twenty-three natives.  It was understood that they were to take me to Gore the next morning.

I had six guides from the village.  We stuck to native trails throughout the entire march over the mountains and streams.  A stream was always at the foot of the mountains and I was well supplied with good clear drinking water from them.  Native food was plentiful, consisting of bananas and paw paws.  At the villages we passed through I was given coconut milk to drink.  The first night we slept in a deserted village of about fifteen shacks.  The following morning my guides obtained other guides and the original group returned to their village.

In each village I slept in a shack which was set aside for visitors.  My guides, myself and the owner of the shack were the only ones who slept there.  The wives and children went elsewhere for the night.  They were always expecting me from one village to the next by the guides shouting from mountain tops.  Preparations would be made, such as having a boy climb a tree to get me a coconut and the like.  The natives took especial interest in my gun and wanted me to shoot all the birds along the trail which they would keep to eat later.

On my fourth day I found a native who could speak very good English.  I asked him if he would guide me the rest of the way to the coast but he replied, “I would if I could but I don’t think my wife would let me.”  He used Aussie slang freely and said that his wife spoke as good English as he.  He was amused and happy that we could carry on a conversation and that the other natives in the village could not tell what we were talking about.  The next morning he sent another boy in his place to guide me.  He said he could not go but for me to sleep in the fourth village from there that night, and that the following day I could make the coast.  My last day we climbed up mountains for three hours and went down hill for seven hours, and arrived at a small American Outpost about 4:30 that afternoon, December 31st.

An interesting thing about the mountains was that at about 11:30 every day it started to rain.  When we were on top of the mountains we would be walking through a dense fog but by the time we could get to the bottom it would be clear but still raining.  I was wet about twenty-four hours of the day despite keeping a fire burning all night.

I remained with our troops at Pongoni until picked up by Captain Peaslee on January 2nd.

It is suggested that arrangements me made to carry salt tablets and handi-tape in pilot’s jungle kits.  In my particular case the natives found my parachute before they found me.  It might be a good idea to remain with your parachute for a few hours at least.  Leggings should be worn by pilots while flying to be sure of having them in event of emergency.  Also, it might be advisable to include small items, such as, razor blades for gifts for the natives.  These items could be inserted in the back pad or jungle kit.

JOHN D. LANDERS
1st Lt., Air Corps.

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“(Left to right) 2 Lts. John Landers, Jack Donaldson, flight leader Andy Reynolds and John Sauber.  Donaldson replaced fallen Livingston of the original flight team which later became the high scoring Blue Flight. ” (Photo from Protect & Avenge)

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“Java veteran Capt. ‘Bitchin’ Ben S. Irvin, who was 9th FS CO for a short period in Darwin, leans against the wing of his P-40E (41-25164, “white 75”), “The Rebel”, showing its prominent Pegasus fuselage art.  Irvin had claimed two confirmed victories with the 17th PS in February 1942 before joining the 49th FG.  Irvin did not add to his tally while leading the 9th FS, and returned to the US in late October, 1942” (Photo from collection of John Stanaway, in 49th Fighter Group: Aces of the Pacific)

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“The Rebel” in flight (Photo from Protect & Avenge)

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Color profile of “The Rebel”, by Chris Davey, from 49th Fighter Group: Aces of the Pacific.

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“Brig. Gen. Paul B. Wurtsmith, Commander 5th Fighter Command, congratulates Lt. John D. Landers, Joshua, Texas, of the 49th Fighter Group after presenting him with the Purple Heart.  He also received the Oak Leaf Cluster, Air Medal, Distinguished Flying Cross and Silver Star at a ceremony held at Dobodura Airfield (Horando), near Port Morsesby, Papua, New Guinea.  18 May 1943.” (79118 AC / A32295)

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John D. Landers, now Colonel John Landers, serving in the 78th Fighter Group, as pictured in Duxford Diary (American Air Museum in England document 16844)

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New Guinea.  The location of the general area of Pongani village is denoted by the red oval. 

Zooming in for a closer view of the location of Pongani village… 

…and, even closer.  

An air photo / and or satellite view at the same scale as the above map….

…followed by an even closer view.  

References

Ferguson, Steve W. and Pascalis, William K., Protect & Avenge: the 49th Fighter Group in World War II, Schiffer Publishing, Atglen, Pa., 1996

Hess, William N., 49th Fighter Group: Aces of the Pacific, Osprey Publishing Company, London, England, 2014

USAF Credits for the Destruction of Enemy Aircraft – World War II, USAF Historical Study No. 85, Albert F. Simpson Historical Research Center, Air University, 1978

AFRHA Microfilm Reel AO 720, frames 1017 through 1020 (Landers – 12/26/42)

P-40E-1 41-25164 “The Rebel” / “75”, at Pacific Wrecks.com

Pongani village, at Wikipedia

Pongani Airfield, at Pacific Wrecks


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