After Germany surrendered, the armed services cut back. Men were discharged based on a point system. I received my discharge from the Army Air Corps on September 14, 1945, while I was at Fort Sharrian, Illinois. I returned to Dubuque, Iowa and was happily reunited with my brother Donnie and my family. At first, I was delighted to be back in civilian life. However, as time elapsed, I discovered things were not a great as I had envisioned. I jumped from one job to another. Housing was very difficult to find. Colleen, Sue and I lived with my sister Etola, her twin daughters, my mom, brother Donnie, and sister Doris. It was a house full! After several months, we finally found three rooms on the third floor of an apartment house which we rented. Shortly after moving into this apartment, Colleen gave birth to our second child, Dennis Dale Turner. The birth of my son was a bright spot in an otherwise dismal state of affairs. I hated my job, was socially drinking too much, and playing cards most every night. My life was becoming a shamble! On June 17, 1947, 1 re-enlisted in the Air Force with the rank of Staff Sergeant (S/Sgt).

Harlyn Glen Turner

My family returned to military life in a 1937 DeSoto and an old 17 foot trailer house. Our destination was Fort Sharrian, Illinois for induction and then on to Lowry AFB, Colorado for classification and orders. I was assigned to the 92nd Bomb Group stationed at Spokane AFB, Washington for the next three years. During this assignment I was assigned to a crew on a B-29 aircraft and went on many temporary duty (TDY) assignments incIuding Japan, Okinawa, and England. My first TDY was to Yokota, Japan during the latter months of 1947. This was during the occupation of Japan and almost everything was off limits. Americans were not allowed on trains that he Japanese operated. We were only to use the trains operated by our military. Military Police were everywhere and they didn't care much for TOY fly boys. As much as I hated the Japanese for what they had done at Pearl Harbor and their treatment of our prisoners, it was sad to see the defeated soldiers in their ragged uniforms standing and laying around. They had no place to go. They worked in the rice fields and ate out of garbage cans. If you threw down a cigarette butt, 15 - 20 Japanese men would fight over it. It was very sad to witness.

Our mission at the time was highly classified. We were to fly across the 38th parallel, sometimes into North Korea and also up the Yellow Sea to China, to report on all troop and equipment movements. At times we were fired on by small arms because of the extremely low altitude we were flying. We were literally so low at times, just above sea level, that we were actually looking up at the ships. The Chinese and the North Koreans would shake their fists at us. We had the opportunity to fly over Hiroshima and Nagasaki to view the damage caused by the atomic bombs. Never had I seen anything so destructive. The only things standing were some iron frames of what used to be buildings and no life movement at all, as the area was still highly contaminated.

Late in 1948, the 98th Bomb Group (which was also stationed at Spokane AFB) was alerted for TOY to Okinawa. The order read that they must arrive in Okinawa with 30 flyable aircraft. However, the 98th was short of crews, so they were going to fill this order from the 92nd Group. I was the next gunner in line to go when all the crews were filled. Of course it was fate that I would go. On the way to Okinawa, one of the planes when landing in Hawaii, before continuing on to Okinawa, crashed and burned killing all on board. The 98th had only 29 aircraft, thus one more had to be taken from the 92nd and this plane included me. The plane I was assigned to was called the Hangar Queen. It got its name from always being in the hangar for repairs. We renamed it Hogan's Goat. On our way to Hawaii, we experienced our first major problem with this aircraft, as one of the engines blew up. We spent approximately three weeks in Hawaii before finally getting on our way to Okinawa. This was to be just the start of our problems.

Shortly after our arrival at Okinawa, we were alerted to evacuate Okinawa because of a developing typhoon and proceed to Guam AFB. As we prepared for take-off from Okinawa, our B-29 aircraft, Hogan's Goat, developed engine trouble forcing us to return to the base. Repairs were quickly made, and we finally got airborne very late that evening leaving Okinawa for Guam. Once we arrived at Guam, a sea search operation was being formed for a B-29 that had gone down at sea. Our crew was scheduled for the night sea search mission.

While searching for the downed B-29 crew, our B-29 aircraft Hogan"s Goat started to develop electrical problems. First we had problems with the radar and then the navigation equipment went haywire. Our radio man could not. contact anyone. We soon realized we were lost somewhere over the Pacific Ocean and almost out of fuel because we had been flying for well over 20 hours. We started to prepare for ditching at sea. While we were preparing for ditching, the navigator called on the intercom and reported he saw a small atoll (Fais Island) up ahead. This was a miracle since we hadn't seen any land since leaving Guam. That day in November 1948, God was definitely our copilot.


Natives on Fais Island

 We approached and flew over the island at treetop level, looking for a spot to bailout, but there was nothing but jungle. On the beach we saw a small group of natives jumping and pointing at our plane. My thoughts were are they friendly or cannibals- We ditched the plane parallel with the beach and the plane came to a sudden stop. We all survived with a few scratches, bumps and bruises. Our co-pilot was the first to make it to shore. Two warriors with large bolo knives captured him and pulled him down the beach. I was the last ashore as I brought a dinghy with me with some supplies.


As we each made it to shore we were taken by force and lined up in front of the big chief (King) of the island. He looked like a Japanese Sumo wrestler. The warriors were pointing, jabbering and pushing us around. Our anxiety mounted because of the uncertainty as to whether these natives were hostile or friendly. Finally we figured out the King wanted to be given gifts. This created a problem since we had just pulled ourselves out of the sea and didn't have much to offer as gifts.

 

Hogan's Goat ditched in shallow water on Fais Island.
However, we all had a few small possessions and presented them to the chief. We gave him a knife, belt, sunglasses and coins, but none of these items seemed to satisfy him. One of the officers from our plane had some Christmas candy in his pocket that had run together from being soaked, and he motioned the chief to taste it. Hurray!! Hurrayl! The chief loved itl The tribe now accepted us.

We made a motion that we were hungry and thirsty. The King clapped his hands and gave his warriors orders to get us something to drink and eat. The natives went up the coconut trees like monkeys. The dropped coconuts with one whip with their knives, just missing their fingers. They split the coconuts in half and handed them to us. They gave us yams and other jungle food all soaked in coconut milk. It tasted terrible! If the natives weren't going kill us , the food surely would. Later that day some of us became ill and had diarrhea.

The tribe consisted of approximately 250 natives including women and children. The natives were of average size and brown. Many natives had tattoo designs all over themselves which may have been a status of rank. I never saw any fire, drinking water, dogs or cats. I remember seeing only some large lizard like animals that could climb trees. Some of the adult natives wore clothing over their lower bodies and none of the children wore clothing. The natives lived in huts made of grass, leaves and whatever else the jungle provided. They kept time by counting moon phases.

We were marched a short distance into the jungle to a small shack and motioned by the natives to open the shack door. We got the door open and found cots and first aid supplies in the shack. Everything in the shack was rusty and of little use. We discovered later that Japanese were on the island during the war and white soldiers such as us invaded the island and either killed the Japanese or ran them into the sea where they may have drowned. During that period U.S. forces had set up and left this first aid station. The natives must have been told no to go near it because it appeared to have never been opened. This was our living quarters while we were on the island. We learned much of this information from one tribe member who knew some English.


Natives rowing the crew to
rescue plane
 Approximately noon the next day, while cranking out S.O.S. on our survival equipment (Gibson Girl), the natives went wild -- Jumping, pointing and hollering. Off in the distance we could see a speck in the sky. Soon we identified the speck as one of our B-29s. We later learned that they had picked up our S.O.S. The plane dropped food and water, which we needed badly, and a message that a rescue would be on its way soon. Just before sundown a Naval Martin PBM seaplane appeared. It is impossible to express the feelings I had knowing

I was about to be rescued. The ocean was getting very rough and the PBM had to land on the other side of the breakers. The natives loaded a couple of us in each of their outriggers and took off for the PBM. I didn't think it was, possible to get over the breakers, but the natives knew exactly what they were doing and got through them with great ease. Every adult male, including the King came out to the PBM. The natives were afraid to get close to the plane. We finally got close enough to catch a line that a Navy airman threw to us and we were pulled to safety.

Once rescued, we were flown to Saipan. On our arrival we were given a hero's welcome, including interviews and pictures. We were then taken to the hospital for a complete check up. After a few days on Saipan we were flown back to Guam Air Base and shortly thereafter back to Okinawa. After a couple of weeks in Okinawa, I was flown back to the good old USA, Spokane AFB, where I was reunited with my family. My wife and family had been notified that we were missing somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and due to typhoons in the area it was doubtful we would be found. I had bought my wife a portable sewing machine at Guam, which I had taken on the B-29 with me. It accompanied me through the complete ordeal. I had taken it out of the downed aircraft with the survival equipment, and never let it out of my sight until I was safely in the USA. It has been one hell of a conversation piece for many years. At this writing, my wife still has it.