We thought we’d do something a little different this week and show you some of the furry, four-legged friends that were adopted by various men as pets during their stay in the Pacific Theater.
We thought we’d do something a little different this week and show you some of the furry, four-legged friends that were adopted by various men as pets during their stay in the Pacific Theater.
By late October 1942 Maj. Tom Gerrity, then C.O. of the 90th Squadron, was scheduled to be rotated home along with the other veteran pilots of the 27th Bomb Group who had been evacuated from the Philippines. Before leaving the Pacific Theater, Gerrity wanted to attempt an ambitious solo strike against the Japanese stronghold of Rabaul on the island of New Britain. An extra set of internal wing tanks had been installed in his B-25 Mitchell bomber to give them the necessary range for a mission scheduled on October 25th. Flying with Gerrity was co-pilot 2/Lt. Robert F. “Ruby” Keeler, veteran bombardier T/Sgt. Kirby Neal, turret gunner Sgt. Joe Champagne and radio operator Sgt. Billy Graham of the RAAF. However, due to engine trouble they were unable to reach the distant target and returned to Port Moresby. The next day Gerrity assigned himself the morning reconnaissance flight and used the opportunity to make multiple strafing attacks against the Japanese base at Salamaua. By noon he had packed his bags and was on his way to Australia, arriving back home in California on November 5th.
Gerrity would soon rise to the rank of General in the U.S. Air Force. He passed away in 1969 and was interred at Arlington National Cemetery. Both Lt. Keeler and Sgt. Kirby would be killed before the year was over while the two gunners, Joe Champagne and Billy Graham, would complete their combat tours and also return home.
Limited Edition of 199 Giclee prints
Signed and numbered by the artist
Image Size: 25″ x 19″
Paper Size: 29″ x 24″
The crewmen of the 500th Bomb Squadron B-25D-1 TONDELAYO fight for their lives over St. Georges Channel, near Rabaul, New Britain on October 18, 1943 while under a determined attack by Japanese fighters. The pilot, 1/Lt. Ralph G. Wallace would emerge victorious from an epic struggle to fend off Japanese Zeroes from 201 and 204 Kokutai while keeping his aircraft aloft with only one of its two engines functioning. Beyond TONDELAYO, a Zero crashes into the water having misjudged a low-level pass against the fleeing Mitchell bomber. Flight leader Capt. Lyle “Rip” Anacker in SNAFU can be seen on Wallace’s left wing and to his left, in the far right of the painting is 1/Lt. Harlan H. Peterson, flying SORRY SATCHUL. Both of these bombers were shot down in this encounter and survivors of Peterson’s crew were machine-gunned in the water by the Japanese.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Wallace’s crew in TONDELAYO managed to fight their way clear of their tormentors and eventually landed at Kiriwina Island, in the Trobriands Group. TONDELAYO, with dozens of bullet holes, would return to combat only after seven months of repair. In the end all 17 crewmen of the three 500th Bomb Squadron B-25s were awarded the Silver Star for valor. The 500th Squadron received a Distinguished Unit Citation for the mission. Col. Clinton True, C.O. of the 345th Bomb Group and leader of this mission, was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second-highest award for valor. This artwork is published in our book Warpath Across the Pacific.
TIN LIZ was another of the unit’s medium bombers which had been converted to a strafer. Its original crew was F/O (later Capt.) Sylvester K. Vogt, pilot; 2/Lt. John R. Tunze, co-pilot; 1/Lt. Donald W. Ryan, navigator; T/Sgt. Robert E. Casty, radio-gunner; and S/Sgt. Joseph Forman, turret gunner. Casty remained with the 501st until early 1945, completing 104 combat missions, more than any other man in the Squadron. T/Sgt. Gerald E. Sims, the crew chief, was responsible for maintenance on the aircraft.
The profile illustrates TIN LIZ as it appeared in late September 1943, after fifteen missions. The original white nose I.D. band and an insignia depicting a grasshopper driving a falling bomb were partially obscured by the new blast panel, which was painted black on many 501st Squadron aircraft. The grasshopper was driving a bomb which had a red lightening bolt zig-zagging down it. The vertical white tail stripe dates from just after the strafer modification and was carried by all Squadron aircraft. Dead-eye Sy appeared just below the pilot’s window. The dark green patches on the vertical stabilizer and wings (not shown) were field applied to many 345th aircraft about the time of the strafer modification.
The insert profile shows this same aircraft as it appeared about May 1944. An entirely new version of the grasshopper insignia has been applied as well as bomb stencils indicating that 85 missions had been completed. The three Japanese fighter silhouettes refer to confirmed kills by turret gunners in 1943. These were a “Zeke” on 10/18 (Flynn), another on 11/15 (Forman), and a third on 12/22 (Forman). Beneath the top turret are displayed two Japanese rising sun flags referring to Forman’s two kills. The sinking ship silhouette in white was for a Japanese ship destroyed by the crew.
Another interesting note was the V -shaped area of darker camouflage paint just below the top turret. This was caused by a protective tarp which was secured over the turret dome when the plane was on the ground. The camouflage paint gradually faded from the sun, but the area under the tarp faded much less, creating the effect shown.
TIN LIZ met its end on May 21, 1944, when it was shot down by AA near Dagua Airstrip, New Guinea, killing the entire crew. Details can be found in Appendix I.
Important missions flown in 1943 included: Wewak, 9/27 (Vogt); Rabaul, 10/12 (Vogt); Rabaul, 10/18 (Marston); Rabaul, 10/24 (Geer-5ooth Sq.); Wewak, 12/22 (Vogt); and in 1944: Admiralties, 1/25 (Vogt); Kavieng, 2/15 (Tunze); and Hollandia, 4/3 (Neuenschwander).
View the color profile on page 214 of our book Warpath Across the Pacific.
After spotting a convoy of reinforcements sailing from Rabaul to Lae on March 1, 1943, Fifth Air Force sprang into action as General Kenney ordered the 43rd, 90th, 38th, and 3rd Bomb Groups to sink this convoy before it could reach its destination. The RAAF also joined the fray in their A-20s by raiding the airdrome at Lae to prevent any enemy fighters from taking off, and 30 Squadron Beaufighters also attacked the convoy. Attacks on the Japanese ships began on March 2nd, sinking one transport ship, with the bulk of the strikes taking place on the 3rd.
March 3rd began with the 71st and 405th Squadrons making low-level attacks on the convoy, which, as of that morning, consisted of eight destroyers sheltering seven transports. Although the B-25s were flying through heavy antiaircraft fire, none of them came away heavily damaged. By contrast, many of the ships were left stalled and smoking by the time the two squadrons headed home. This was to be a two-mission day, as the crews were to return to the Bismarck Sea that afternoon after their aircraft were reloaded with bombs and fuel. General Ennis C. Whitehead, the deputy Commander of Fifth Air Force, made a personal appearance at the 38th Bomb Group camp to get a full account of the morning’s events from the men. Back at Rabaul, the Japanese prepared to send additional fighters to aid in the defense of the convoy for the afternoon rematch.
Heading back to the Bismarck Sea, the 38th crews began their search for the convoy. They soon arrived, first encountering two ships dead in the water, then a few more burning away. As Capt. Ezra Best lined up for an attack on a destroyer from medium altitude, gunners on his B-25 GRASS CUTTER began firing at Oscar fighters from 11 Sentai that surprised the 71st Squadron. While there was an exchange of gun fire, it wasn’t as intense compared to the battles at high altitude earlier in the day.
Meanwhile, pilots from the 405th Squadron decided to target a cluster of three ships, two of which were still moving. Several bursts of antiaircraft fire were thrown at the incoming B-25s with one exploding right in front of FILTHY LIL, piloted by 1/Lt. Adkins. The plane filled with smoke and the nose was jerked upward by the blast, knocking it out of formation. Briefly, the pilot and co-pilot thought that FILTHY LIL received severe damage and would have to be ditched, but it turned out that the nose only had a small hole. The pilot and co-pilot went off in search of a target, only to come across a destroyed transport with survivors floating in the water. They were strafed by the gunners* until their ammo ran out, then FILTHY LIL turned for home. Co-pilot 1/Lt. John Donegan wrote about his state of mind during the mission: “our destruction was not for mercy: it was simply that to us all Japanese soldiers had become things to be annihilated, not necessarily cruelly, but always thoroughly.”
For the Allies, the Battle of the Bismarck Sea was a resounding success. All eight Japanese transports and four destroyers were sunk. This raid also demonstrated that a relatively new tactic, low-level bombing, was an effective method for attacking enemy ships.
*Note: If you’ve read our previous Bismarck Sea post, you have read about the Japanese shooting at 43rd crewmembers who bailed out of their B-17. We cannot determine if the 38th knew about these events prior to their afternoon mission.
During their first year of combat over New Guinea the bomber crews of the 13th & 90th Squadrons of the 3rd Bomb Group included pilots and radio gunners (WAGs) from the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF). They were needed to fill the five to six crew positions of the newly acquired B-25 Mitchell medium bombers while the 13th & 90th Squadrons transitioned from previously operating the A-20A Havoc light bomber which needed only three crewmen. Warrant Officer John Trevor Soundy was one of seven RAAF pilots attached to the 13th Squadron in May 1942. He had joined the RAAF in 1940 and was the eldest son of Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress Soundy of Hobart, Tasmania. Because of his seniority and possibly due to his social status he typically flew as co-pilot with 13th Squadron Commanding Officer Capt. Alexander G. Evanoff. From June through October 1942 he participated in a number of bombing missions against the Japanese air bases at Lae and Salamaua, New Guinea. During a transit flight from Charters Towers to Port Moresby on January 7, 1943, Soundy and pilot 1/Lt. Charles Dolan went missing in the 3rd BG B-25 NOT IN STOCK. The crew and passengers of nine simply disappeared over the ocean and remain missing to this day.
We have all heard the phrase “actions have consequences.” In this instance, a prank played by Capt. Harold G. De Kay may have saved his life. The 500th and 501st Squadrons were scheduled to strike Hansa Bay on January 30, 1944. During an evening of joking around in the Officers’ Club the previous night, De Kay sent a man to prank Capt. Jack Manders by putting pins through the wires of Manders’ jeep’s horn. In return, Manders demoted De Kay from his usual position in the lead plane on missions and stuck him in the last plane of the formation. Manders took his spot in his B-25 nicknamed ARKANSAS TRAVELER.
Upon arriving over Hansa Bay, the area was completely overcast, but crews were able to pick out their targets: ships, an airstrip and antiaircraft guns. As the B-25s began to make their runs over the bay, the antiaircraft batteries opened fire. An engine on ARKANSAS TRAVELER caught fire after a flak shell burst right next to it. With one engine out of commission, Manders fell behind and Lt. Symens in QUITCH took the lead position, barreling down on one of the two ships Manders was attacking. Unchecked, the fire damaged the hydraulic system, which caused the landing gear to extend and slowed the B-25 further. Still, Manders was determined to finish his run. Fifty feet above the ship, he released two of his bombs, one of which may have hit the ship directly.
Approximately 100 yards beyond the ship, ARKANSAS TRAVELER lost all lift and bounced off the surface of the water once before exploding as it hit the water a second time. The bombs released by Symens exploded a second later, one of which may have been right against the ship. HORATIO II also had an engine damaged by gunfire, although the pilot was able to make an emergency landing at Finschhafen. QUITCH had been hit a few times, although they didn’t think there was anything more than maybe a flat tire (which turned out to be undamaged) and a six-inch hole in the right wing flap.
As Symens brought QUITCH in for landing, the damaged flap the had originally looked like it would be ok suddenly tore off, causing the plane to make a violent, vertical 90 degree rotation with a wing pointed straight down. For a few terrifying seconds, the plane flew onward as the pilot and co-pilot, 1/Lt. Paul H. Murphy, worked to bring the B-25 back in control and land safely. They were subsequently awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for their skill.
De Kay, who some assumed to be dead (they didn’t know he wasn’t on the lead plane like usual), was convinced by several officers to recommend Manders for the Medal of Honor. He wrote up an admittedly exaggerated account of the events that occurred, which wasn’t believed by headquarters. Instead, Manders was awarded a posthumous Distinguished Service Cross.
As November 1944 began, the 345th Bomb Group was flying to the staging base of Morotai, where they would then take part in missions that targeted islands in the Philippines. Morotai was three hours away from their base at Biak Island. While this hop could be considered routine, weather once again thwarted plans of landing at Morotai on November 6th. As the B-25 pilots attempted to fly through the stormy weather, Morotai went on red alert and the control tower went off the air. It became extremely difficult for the crews to find their way to Morotai without a radio signal, not to mention a way out of the storm. Several pilots turned around. One, Lt. Edward Reel, remained in the area, hoping to catch a station. Aboard his B-25 were six crewmen and passengers.
Hours passed. Reel had descended to find the bottom of the clouds, but he was unsuccessful. A little while later, the radio operator found a station for them to follow, however, no one responded to the distress calls. The plane’s fuel supply was running low and everyone on board decided Reel should ditch in the turbulent water below. After turning on the landing lights, the B-25 descended to wave-top height and hit a wave well at more than 100 miles per hour. The tail cracked upon impact, and the rough waters snapped it off shortly thereafter. Five men made it out of the aircraft alive and spent an uncomfortable night in a raft on the stormy seas. Reel and and radio operator T/Sgt. William A. Butts went down with the plane.
When the sun rose on November 7th, the sea was calm and the sky was clear. The survivors saw that they were surrounded by nothing but water. For three days, they floated in the ocean. They managed to signal a C-47, which circled the raft, then dropped a five gallon can of water and a life raft with a note that said, “Help on way. Land 120 miles south.” The can of fresh water, unfortunately, exploded on impact, but the raft was in good shape and three of the men climbed into it. Help had not arrived by nightfall. An argument broke out about whether or not to hoist small sails on one of the rafts and head for land or stay put. In the end, they split up. Staff Sergeant Alton F. Joyner, T/Sgt. Henry A. Jepeson and Cpl. Robert J. Schoonmaker set sail for land.
On November 12th, planes spotted the two men, S/Sgt. Douglas C. Osborne and 2/Lt. George W. Harding, in their raft. They were rescued by a Catalina a little later. It wasn’t until the following day when the trio in the other raft was spotted and finally rescued. After recovering from exposure and injuries at the 17th Station Hospital at Owi, the men spent a month in Australia to rest and recuperate.
For more stories about the 345th Bomb Group, check out our book Warpath Across the Pacific.
Within the first year of the United States entering World War II, the country faced the task of moving airplanes and their crews to their destination of the far-off Pacific Theater. While most of the men spent about three weeks aboard a ship, some arrived in Australia by plane in August 1942. A few months earlier, the air force had decided it wasn’t practical to ship B-25s and B-26s to the Pacific Theater, and flight crews from the 71st and 405th Squadrons had to ferry their own newly built B-25s on an island-hopping route from California to Australia. This had never been done with any other unit that arrived in Australia prior to the 38th Bomb Group. It would be a nail biting experience, as the crews had little room for navigational error or mechanical trouble.
Before making the first and longest flight from Hamilton Field, California to Hickam Field, Hawaii, the B-25s had to be outfitted with two large fuel tanks installed in the top and bottom of the bomb bay, a third tank in the bombardier’s spot, and, in case those weren’t enough, a 25 gallon fuel tank was also installed on the wings of some of the B-25s. To increase fuel efficiency, each plane was also stripped of guns and armor. Bombardiers and gunners, whose spots were occupied by fuel tanks, were sent to Hawaii by a transport plane along with the guns and armor from the B-25s. After plenty of tinkering and testing, engineering crews were ready to send the B-25 crews on their way to Hawaii.
Flights began on August 2nd, with four 71st Squadron crews taking off before 0600. Fourteen hours later, they successfully touched down at Hickam Field with little fuel to spare. The rest of the 71st was cleared to join the four crews in Hawaii the next morning. Among them was Capt. Alden G. “Bud” Thompson, flying his B-25 nicknamed BUD AND HIS POGMASTERS. His plane had been modified differently from some of the other B-25s. The fuel tanks in the bomb bay were half the size, with the rest of the fuel to come from tanks on the wings. Unfortunately, the crew had not been told how to transfer fuel from the wing tanks, instead relying on a “tech order” that turned out to be indecipherable. Thompson and his crew turned back for California and landed safely. The small fuel tank was exchanged for a larger one and the crew took off the next morning. They saw a B-17 formation heading in the same direction and joined up with them. Hickam Field was not expecting a B-25 with the B-17s and set off a red alert until the situation was resolved and Thompson and his crew were allowed to land.
The next leg of the trip would be to Christmas Island, followed by Canton Island, then Fiji and New Caledonia, the last stop before Australia. For Thompson, unlike some of the other pilots, the flights between each of these islands had remained relatively uneventful. Still, after two weeks of island hopping, he was eager to get to Australia and refused to spend the night in New Caledonia. Thompson would take the lead position in a flight of five B-25s from New Caledonia to Amberley Field. Crews estimated a five hour flight time, which ended up being far too optimistic. Instead of arriving over Australia before sunset, pilots spent more time battling with strong headwinds over the Coral Sea. WE’REWOLF, flown by 1/Lt. William G. Woods, disappeared. Fortunately, the lost B-25 made it to the RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force) strip at Evans Head with the help of a Fairey Battle escort.
Finally, they saw the Australian coastline illuminated by the moon and the navigator aboard Thompson’s plane tuned into Brisbane’s radio station, which would help them stay on course. Ideally, they would hit the eastern edge of Brisbane, then turn inland for Ipswich and land at Amberley. The problem was, they had arrived south of Brisbane and the coastline they were looking at was not at all what they had expected. Australia had also not expected to see the B-25s until the next day and was completely blacked out. And unbeknownst to the aircrews, the radio signal they were following was not coming from Brisbane, but Grafton, a small town well to the south of their destination.
Low on fuel, the flight of B-25s needed to land quickly. A corporal at the Australian Signal Station at Grafton’s airport identified the B-25s and tried to contact them in Morse code using the lights surrounding the base’s tennis courts. Private James T. Berry, the radio operator, was given a signal lamp to send a message that the planes needed to land immediately. With the help of the local radio station, the corporal gathered Grafton’s residents to light the airstrip with their cars. BUD AND HIS POGMASTERS made a hard landing and tore through a fence as the plane ran out of room on the short runway. After the B-25 stopped, the nose wheel collapsed in the mud. First Lieutenant Richard T. Sharp, who was very anxious to land, brought his plane down next. Dangerously low on fuel, his plane followed the same path into the mud, with the nose gear snapping off and the plane spinning to a stop.
Circling above them, the two remaining B-25s were sent 50 miles away to Evans Head. As they flew north, the pilots of both planes realized they were also very low on fuel and would not make it. Instead, they decided to bail out. One man was killed and the rest made it safely to the ground. By August 22nd, all of the 38th’s air crews were reunited and the men turned their attention to the war.
On May 29, 1945, 1/Lt. Fred L. Paveglio and his wingman, 1/Lt. L.T. Wilhelm, piloted their B-25J Mitchells on a devastating raid against the Tairin Alcohol Plant on the island of Formosa. Following the precise directions from the navigator, 2/Lt. Albert C. West, Paveglio and Wilhelm dropped down to attack height and heavily strafed the Tairin complex, just before dropping a half dozen 500-pound parademos.
This painting depicts the moment approximately five seconds after the munitions detonated on the ground where the mammoth secondary explosion sent debris rocketing high above the plant. At the same time, the alcohol storage tanks were touched off, sending a blazing fireball 800 feet into the air. During the spring and summer of 1945, the 38th Bomb Group was so successful in destroying the fuel alcohol industry on Formosa that they earned the nickname “Alcohol Buster of Formosa.”
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