MAJOR ROBERT DOWNED

Everything went well, for almost 80 bombers were off the ground in record time. You could see each squadron form into a close formation as it roared back in a sweeping turn. One ship appeared much lower than normal, but nothing much was thought about it. Not long after, word came through that this bomber crashed in the harbor. One engine quit, and another engine on the same side wasn't putting out full power, which resulted in a crash landing on the water. Only half the crew was saved because the bomber sank immediately upon contacting the harbor waters. Everyone was worried more than normal. We all knew the Nips could fight and fly like hell at 25,000 feet.

In the afternoon, the strike report came in. "Moderate flak and intense fighter opposition. Primary target bombed visually". That's all the report stated, except the fact that Major Robert's plane was shot down. That made a total of ten planes and their crews that have gone down since Thanksgiving Day two months ago. One and a half crews were recovered out of the ten. Little wonder everyone was worried.

Getting back to the mission, I had to report to the runway control tower for duty that night to see that plane traffic at the end of the two runways ran smoothly. When these planes are coming home, a lot are almost out of gas, some have dead engines and others are pretty well shot up. Naturally they are all trying to land as soon as possible, so a jam at the end of the runway could be extremely dangerous.

Left-to-right: Capt. Stanley H. Samuelson (MIA), T/Sgt. Albert Kramer (MIA), Sgt. Charles Weiser (MIA), 2/Lt. Charles Kingsley (MIA), 1/Lt John J. Wright (MIA), 1/Lt. Elwyn M. Shinn (MIA), 1/Lt. Jack Martinson (MIA), Sgt. Robert J. Janecek (MIA), Sgt. John T. Goulooze (MIA). T/Sgt. Robert P. Evans (POW), Sgt. Hargrove (MIA)

JAPS GOT IN "LICKS"

By eleven o'clock all planes had returned except Major Robert's ship, so in spite of the loss, the Wing as a whole, was extremely lucky. By twelve o'clock we had the whole story pieced together. Captain Taylor's bomber came home with over 60 bullet and cannon holes, and some men slightly wounded. Captain Brown landed with only a few minutes gas supply left, one engine feathered and his plane shot up so badly that it might be grounded for months. One cannon shell exploded in his wing and blew a huge hole in the gas tank. How his plane kept from exploding is a miracle. By the grace of God, no one in his plane was wounded.

A ship from the 499th had the closest of close calls. Over the target, the Nips shot out one of their engines, and also sprayed the ship from nose to tail with steel. A stray bullet entered the cockpit and tore through the pelvis, and stomach of the co-pilot. The crew kept him alive for four hours but to no avail. He died on the way home. A short time after they left the coast of Japan, another engine went dead and they flew over a thousand miles on two engines before arriving safely home at Saipan. It is more than luck when planes come home under those circumstances. I know that all who saw the way some of these silver forts returned, offered a prayer of thanks to God.

"YOU HAVE NO CHOICE"

The total number of pursuits was estimated at over 150. Sometimes only six planes were together as was true in our Squadron, and they had to stand up against them. In a bomber you have no choice. All you do is sit there wondering if the one that is coming in will get you before you get him. You can't see how they can miss for you are so big a target. You cheer when one blows up, and choke up when one of your own blows up. We say to ourselves, "It could just as well have been us". On top of all this, you are working your engines to death and at any moment one or more might quit. Flak fills the sky, bursting above, in front, and below, sometimes so close that you hide behind your armor plate and listen to it bounce off your bomber. just when you think every thing is happening to you, the gunners call up and report different turrets out of commission. When you are about ready to throw in the towel, everything quiets down - you are out over the water, away from that hell on earth, Japan, and heading for home.

You can almost hear everyone in the crew utter a long low whistle. Someone yells, "I'm hungry, let's eat!" Each man relaxes for the first time in hours. The thoughts of having to fly over 1,500 more miles of water, half of which belongs to the enemy doesn't seem to make much of an impression on the boys for they know they are headed home once again.

Final tally of enemy pursuit shot down by our group was 12 kills, 18 probables and 20 damaged. Yes, our gunners are learning the hard way which is the way most all gunners have to do before they become "hot rocks".

The end of January was fast approaching. We all liked the time to go by fast, but there was also the thought of going on another mission that much sooner. No one was eager whatsoever about going on another raid, and if you don't know why, I'm sure the next few paragraphs will clarify that point.

OUR "WEATHER" PLANE

January 27th marked another one of our (low altitude) 25,000 foot missions. My ship was designated as a weather plane along with Lt. Calhoun's. We took off an hour ahead of the Wing formation and proceeded to the coast of Japan, south of Nagoya at 33,000 feet. No bombs were carried by our two planes for our primary purpose was to relay the weather situation back to the bomber formation and inform them which of two targets they would attack, Nagoya or Tokyo. We spotted no flak and only 15 enemy fighters headed in the opposite direction to pick up the expected bombers. The plan wasn't too successful, for it alerted all the fighters in Southern Japan.

After our two ship formation left the mainland of Japan, which we were over for an hour, I tuned in our "B" channel on the "VHF" radio just in time to hear the large formation behind us talking from one plane to another over the target. It was a tragic conversation that I shall never forget. Some were reporting their buddies going down in flames. Others were yelling for "Superdumbos" which are search planes sent out by us to spot planes that have ditched. Others were begging for protection and cover from other B-29's. Some one yelled over the radio, "Let's get the hell out of this mess"!

Very faintly you could hear a plane sending his position prior to going down in the ocean. Praying for those in trouble seemed to be done automatically and without any preparation.

We were in good shape, but were too far ahead of the other planes to do any good. Favorable winds brought us home an hour sooner than expected. Naturally we were plenty happy to be back, but I'm sure there will be times that we will be very much happier to be back than this last mission.

MISSION A FAILURE

The following morning, January 28, everyone was finally getting the gist of the mission. It was, as far as bombing goes, a complete flop. Because of terrible fighter opposition and clouds, all planes completely missed the city. Our Wing lost five 29's shot down over the target, two more that ditched on the way home, and two that crashed on landing, a total of 7 crews or about 80 men, and 9 bombers. In percentages it was somewhere around 12 % -which was much more than anyone could possibly afford to lose on a mission, even if it was successful. The Nip pilots also took a beating. Final count of enemy pursuit knocked down was 60 sure kills, more than a score "probables", and dozen damaged. Our Colonel put it as a fighter sweep instead of a bombing mission, and I guess he hit it pretty close.

One of our planes was rammed by two Japs, tearing up one wing and ripping off half his tail, exposing the tail gunner to the freezing wind. This ship came home, however, according to all laws it never should have stayed in the air. The pilot did a super human job of flying the ship back. He couldn't bail out for there were a number of wounded aboard. During the attempted landing, the plane went out of control and crashed, breaking in half. All were taken out alive and last reports have it all doing O.K., except the tail gunner who was badly wounded and suffering from two frozen hands. Doc McConnell thought that if he lived, he would lose both his hands.

Another fellow in our group came all the way home with two engines out on one side of his plane. A propeller's governor went out causing it to "rev" up to a tremendous speed. This in turn made the metal around the hub red hot, resulting in the prop flying off the engine. Because it was on the inboard engine, it smashed the, propeller on the other nacelle, resulting in two dead engines. How this plane ever flew 1,300 miles in this condition will always be one of the wonders of our bombers.


RUNWAY CONTROL OFFICER

On mission days when we aren't scheduled to go, I have the duty of group runway control officer. Each plane takes off at a minute interval and because two runways are in operation, we can fly them off every 30 seconds. I've been acting as flag man and though I have to get up at 5:30 A.M., it's lots of fun. Some chaplains are always on the runway before they take off and the Catholic Chaplain, Father Hickey, blesses each plane as it takes to the air. Even though many of us aren't Catholics, it is a comforting feeling.

I also have to stand at the end of the runway and spot each plane as it lands, and phone to Wing Headquarters the number of the plane and the exact time of its landing. This job is really thrilling, for you watch planes gang up on the final approach and cross your fingers as they all try to come in - almost simultaneously. The planes that have wounded aboard, flash a red light as they land and everyone clears the way for the ambulances.

We always look for the Red Cross truck that comes around later in the evening with coffee and doughnuts. It reminds me of my days in Africa when the Red Cross girl came around after each mission also with coffee and doughnuts.

McGUIRE GOES DOWN

A few weeks have elapsed since I last recorded any data in this book. In the meantime Lt. Jackson went on another mission and so did our crew. The raid in which we went on, February 10, 1945, was in many ways a success, however, we suffered our greatest loss. Twelve Superforts failed to return out of both Wings that took part in the mission. Good old T. K. McGuire went down. He was flying in our formation and we saw him peal off and head for home just before we hit the target. A fighter got a lucky hit for one engine was smoking. Someone reported seeing three fighters on his tail but thought he had the ship under control. That was the last we ever saw or heard from them. So far our own squadron has lost four crews, or rather three and one-half crews, for half of Bricker's crew was picked up out of the Pacific.

It is so very hard living under these circumstances. It's humanly impossible to get used to seeing your buddies go down all the time so most of us try to ignore the fact.

Every day I get to hate this stinking rotten war more. The thought of a beautiful $600,000.00 silver bomber piling up on the runway is cast off with the snap of a finger so long as everyone comes out alive. It's funny in a way-we don't pray that everyone comes out OK - all we ask is that they come out alive.

Church is really an important part of most of our lives here on Saipan. It is the best feeling I've had here, singing hymns, watching how serious everyone is, and how they listen to every word that is said.

This was the last entry made in Capt. Samuelson's diary before he was listed as MIA on February 19th, 1945.







Painting done by Jim Laurier. He is a member of the A.S.A.A. (American Society of Aviation Artists). You can see more of Jim's paintings at the following web site:
www.aviation-art.simplenet.com

I would like to thank Len Chaloux for sharing his Uncle's most personal diary and the above painting that he had commissioned to memorialize that fateful flight. You can reach Len here.



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