We
quickly discovered that wartime meant rapid promotions. Most of our replacement were recruits either
fresh out of boot camp or from AMM school on North Island. The last week in February I took and passed
the examination for aviation machinist mate second class. A month later, when I had been in the Navy
for less than two years, I was notified that I have been promoted to
AMM2/c. I promptly went into town and
ordered my first tailor-made bell bottom trousers. My waist at the time measured twenty-seven
inches. I ordered twenty-seven-inch bell
bottoms. I had been in the Navy less
than two years, but having been under fire on December 7th, I
considered myself an “old salt”. I was
just twenty years old.
During
March of 1942 the Navy surgeons decided that we on the regular flight crews
were subject to “flight fatigue” and decreed that we should fly only an average
of 80 hours per month. Much to my
disgust, I was shifted to a night engine check crew. On the 5th of April I was assigned
to a three-week aerial gunners’ course that had been initiated at Kaneohe. It seemed like more “duck soup” to me and my
log book shows that I scored 96% on the thirty caliber, 100% on the fifty
caliber, 94% on the enemy aircraft silhouettes, and 96% on aircraft
sighting. I graduated as a qualified
combat aircrewman on the 26th of April and went back to a
maintenance crew.
It
was while I was in aerial gunners’ class, I believe, that we heard about
General Doolittle’s raid on the Japanese home islands from the carrier
HORNET. Other than some hit and run
raids in the South Pacific by Admiral Halsey with the carriers YORKTOWN,
ENTERPRISE, and LEXINGTON, the Doolittle raid using Army B-25s flown from the
HORNET was the only bright spot DURING THOSE DARK DAYS OF EARLY 1942. The carrier SARATOGA had suffered a torpedo
hit and was back in the states for repairs.
With most of the Pacific Fleet battleships out of commission for repairs
or still sitting on the bottom of Pearl Harbor, we were truly a “thin blue
line” in the Pacific.
Sometime
during the spring of 1942, Richard came up with a new girlfriend. Her name was Diane Koyama and she was a taxi
driver in Honolulu. I liked Diane. She was brunette, of course, and her slim
figure was surprisingly tall for her Japanese ancestry although the top of her
head barely came above Dick’s shoulder.
She had a great sense of humor.
Most of Dick’s liberty time was devoted to Diane when she was not
working and the chubby little waitress in the saimen stand was forgotten.
To
my great delight I was transferred back to my old flight crew with Ernie
Davenport on May 15th. Our
pilots were not Clark and Willis, however.
Our PCC was an ex-AP, “Speedball” Camp, and our co-pilot was a new
ensign, Gus Binnebose. Our bombardier
was Dick’s old buddy, Joe Brooks, now an aviation ordnanceman second class.
Sometime
in late May we got the news of the Battle of the Coral Sea. It was the first sea battle in history waged
solely by aircraft from carriers. The
Japanese lost two small carriers and a tanker.
In return, we suffered the grievous and loss of the USS LEXINGTON, one
of our few first-line aircraft carriers.
In addition, scuttlebutt had it that the YORKTOWN had been seriously
damaged and was limping back to Pearl Harbor.
On
May 25th my flight crew was ordered to a one-week advanced base
operation at little Johnson Island, far to the southwest of the Hawaiian
Islands. Accompanied by another PBY (I
believe from VP-14) we flew daily patrols guarding the southwest approaches of
the Pacific where the Japanese had been operation literally unopposed.
On
or about May 30th, the VP-14 airplane crashed during landing in the
lagoon at Johnson Island. Somehow the pilot
hooked a wingtip during landing and the airplane cartwheeled. The fuselage broke in half just forward of
the tower. Fortunately, all the crew
member survived. Working furiously form
whaleboats, we managed to salvage the precious machine guns before the wing
filled with water and the airplane sank.
Bringing
the VP-14 crew with us, we flew back to Kaneohe on June 2nd. When we arrived at Kaneohe Bay we were amazed
to find the parking ramp empty of other airplanes. Richard had been rotated to ground duty in
the parachute loft. I found him at the
barracks and asked what the hell was going on.
For
once, Dick did not have all the answer.
He shrugged and said something like, “Beats the hell out of me,
Con. All I know is that apparently
something big must be in the works. Half
of our airplanes were sent to Barking Sands on Kauai and the other half took
off this morning to go to Johnson Island to replace you.”
“Since
when,” I demanded, “does it take six airplanes to replace two” That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Don’t
ask me, bird brain. I’m not running the
goddam war! Ask Admiral Nimitz the next
time you have tea with him!”
We
were further mystified the next day when my flight crew was instructed to pack
gear for a week and sleep that night in the flight crew ready room at the
hangar. After evening chow our
conjectures ranged the full scale. Our
old VP-11 skipper, Commander N.A. Johnson, had been temporarily replaced by a Commander
Marcy. His nickname was “Blood and Guts
Marcy” and he had purportedly flown the last PBY out of the Philippines before
the fall of Corregidor. One of our
radiomen thought perhaps we had been assigned to fly Mary back to the mainland. Davenport squelched that hope when he pointed
out that we had been instructed to pack only spare dungarees, not dress
uniforms. We hit the sack still baffled.
The
next morning, June 4th, we were wakened at 0400 for early breakfast
and were instructed to get the airplane ready for launch. On the ramp we were again puzzled—there was
no armament on the external bomb racks.
Our bafflement continued when the pilots appeared. They were accompanied by Commander Mary and
each was carrying a zippered flight bag.
At
takeoff Marcy was in the co-pilot’s seat and I had a chance to speak to the
co-pilot, “Where we headed, Mister Binnehose?”
The
rotund ensign shrugged. “I dunno—just to
Pearl right now. Something is happening
but I don’t know what.”
We
flew around the island and landed at Pearl Harbor. As soon as the airplane was drawn up on the
Ford Island ramp, a staff car picked up the PPC and Marcy. Most of the rest of us climbed down and
squatted in the shade of the big wing.
Before
long two bomb trucks towing 21-inch torpedoes on dollies pulled up under the
wing and a crew of ordnancemen installed torpedo racks in place of our external
bomb racks, then started hoisting the torpedoes into place.
“Shee-it,”
Davenport exclaimed, “I guess we must be going out for torpedo practice!”
Meanwhile
Joe Brooks was eyeing the big torpedoes.
“I dunno,” he said, “you ever go out to practice with anything but dummy
torpedoes? Them things up there are live
fish! Not only that, look at the other
airplanes on the ramp. They all got live
torpedoes.”
He
was right. There were twelve other PBYs on
the ramp and all were armed with torpedoes.
There was sudden inexplicable tension in our little group. We were staring wonderingly at each other
when our radioman, who had remained on board at the radio suddenly popped his
head out the navigator’s hatch and yelled, “Hey, they just broke radio silence—there’s
a helluva big battle going on out at Midway Island!!”
A
chill ran through me as the implication of the live torpedoes hit home. We were going to get a crack at the
Japs! Before any of us could ract. The staff
car skidded to a halt at the wingtip just as the APUs of some other PBYs started
sputtering. Camp and Marcy piled out and
waved us into the airplane.
We
had the engines running in record time and were the first airplane that the tow
tractor put over the launching ramp while the other PBYs were towed into line
behind us. We were soon to find that
Marcy was the senior officer present on the flight; therefore, we would assume
the lead position.
No
explanation was offered while we took off then circled off Barber’s Point until
all the other twelve airplanes were airborne.
They formed up with us in a large vee, then Marcy set course to the west
northwest toward French Frigate Shoals and, beyond, Midway Island.
Once
on course, Marcy finally addressed us on the interphone. He informed us that the Japanese were
attacking Midway and that their forces included an invasion fleet. He stated that intelligence had known of the
Japanese plan and that Midway was dug in and ready. Our three remaining aircraft carriers,
including the YORKTOWN that had been damaged in the Coral Sea action, were out
there. Most of us cheered when Marcy
said that our orders were to find the enemy carriers and inflict maximum damage
with a torpedo attack. Only our new
first radio man (whose name, mercifully, I forget) sank back white-faced in his
seat and stared blindly at the set before him.
We would finally get a crack at the sneaky bastards!
(In
retrospect, it was a comic opera situation—thirteen slow, clumsy PBYs setting
out to torpedo enemy carriers protected by the fast, slashing Zero fighters. Admiral Nimitz had marshalled every bit of
force at his command and was scraping the bottom of the barrel. If the Japanese, who already held Wake Island
to the west of Midway, could capture Midway, it would become a spear point
aimed directly at the Hawaiian Islands and, beyond, at the west coast of the
United States. Unbeknownst to us, we
were facing the greatest fleet of Japanese warships ever assembled—and led by
Admiral Nagumo’s fast carrier task force, the same that had made the attack on
Hawaii on December 7th, 1941.)
As
we droned on toward our point of no return out beyond French Frigate Shoals, we
sobered and started to reflect on our chances of success. I sat in the tower as my adrenalin subsided
and wondered about that. Fear? Yes, I felt the metallic taste of fear in my
mouth and I knew that some of us would not come back. There was just a chance, though, that some of
us might get through and put a torpedo into one of those carriers. My jaw was set in determination as I logged
the engine instrument readings. We would
go do what had to be done.
It
was not to be—that day. Fifty miles
short of our point of no return out pat French Frigate Shoals, Marcy contacted
the other planes and led the formation in a sweeping turn that reversed our
course. He then came on the interphone, “Well,
gentlemen, we have been ordered back to Kaneohe. Word is that the Japs have air superiority
over Midway and we have the chance of a snowball in hell of getting
through. Admiral Nimitz himself has
ordered us back.”
All
of us (except that nameless radioman) were crushed and frustrated. Our guns were already rigged out and
charged. We had been all keyed up to
meet the enemy in combat and, suddenly, we were running for home. Our disappointment, however, was moderated by
the sober realization that if the Japanese had air superiority and we flew
toward their fleet, we would be picked off like sitting ducks on a pond.
(We
were to learn alter that Admiral Nimitz had received word that Torpedo Eight,
flying TBDs, had been completely wiped out during a torpedo attack without
getting a single hit on the enemy aircraft carriers. Only Ensign Gay survived and was picked out
of the water by a PBY the next day.)
Marcy
led all thirteen PBYs back to Kaneohe Bay.
During the flight back we got word on the radio that at least three
Japanese aircraft carriers had been sunk by our dive bombers and that the enemy
no long had air superiority. It was too
late, however, and we did not have enough fuel to go on to Midway. We landed at Kaneohe. When we were parked on the ramp, we were
instructed to leave our gear aboard the airplanes, once again sleep in the
ready room, and be ready for takeoff at dawn the next morning. We would still get to Midway. That delighted all of us except the radioman
I mentioned—he turned in at the sick bay with “cat fever” and had to be
replaced.
After
evening chow, I went to the barracks looking for brother Dick. He was nowhere to be found. One of the squadron yeoman told me that he
had one ashore on liberty that afternoon still thinking that we had flown off
into the middle of the battle. He had still
not returned when we took off the next morning.
