SPLICING THE MAINBRACE

I was assigned to lead the first strike from the Intrepid against Kuri Harbor, a strongly fortified Naval Base that contained major elements of the Japanese fleet.  I had nine bombers in my flight and after a pre-dawn take-off and rendezvous, we headed for the island of Honshu in company with torpedo bombers and covering fighter aircraft.

Approach was made to Honshu at about 11,000 feet just below the cloud cover so that Kuri Harbor could be picked up after crossing the inland sea.  We had to make a swing to the West because I wanted our dives to be made from the North so we could pull out over the inland sea and rendezvous over the Pacific, away from the expected fighter interception, and more specifically the AA fire.

We had received an intelligence briefing the night before, but nothing they said prepared us for the intense anti-aircraft fire we encountered as we were swinging around to the North preparing for our attack.  My rearseat man was manning his machine gun and frantically tossing out chaf (metal strips released to confuse enemy radar) and specifically to disrupt the enemy’s radar-controlled guns.  I had never seen anything to compare to the intensity of the barrage that was thrown up against us.  It was the greatest fireworks display I had ever seen and have seen since.  Apparently they controlled their fire by releasing barrages of different colored shells at different altitudes because there would be different colors at different altitudes.  The harbor was full of ships as predicted, and as I led the flight to our attack point, I spotted the aircraft carrier moored to a dock.  I told the flight I was going to attack the carrier, and for them to pick targets of opportunity-there was no dearth of targets to pick from.  At this point, another miracle occurred in my life.  As I broke away from my two wingmen, to start my dive, a hellish barrage of flak erupted just to my right and between me and the other planes of the flight.  I heard one of my section leaders say “I think number one has been hit, I don’t see his plane anymore!”  The sky was so obliterated with smoke from the AA that I could hardly pick up the carrier flight deck.  Also at this time, I heard Ens. Rumsey, who was my wingman, broadcast, “I‘ve been hit, I’m ditching in the harbor, my engine has quit.”  I picked up the carrier at about 8000 feet and was in a good 65° dive.  I could see the AA guns on the carrier firing back at me, but compared to the barrage that had been fired at us from the shore batteries, it was nothing.  I commenced firing my 20 mm cannons during the dive and released my bombs – one 500-pound and two 250- pound bombs.  In all the confusion, no one knew who hit what but I’m sure mine was among the reported hits on the carrier.

I pulled out of my dive about 500 feet heading directly to the harbor entrance.  My throttle was bent full forward and my air crewman was yelling over the intercom radio “Faster!  Faster!  The AA fire is creeping up on our tail!”  Outside the harbor entrance, there were some harbor patrol craft.  I completed a strafing run on one as I made my way to our rendezvous point about five miles offshore.  I remember seeing the flashes of their AA guns (probably fifty-caliber machine guns), and thinking, Why those SOBS are firing back at me!

In about fifteen minutes of circling, I had all my flight together except Ens. Rumsey, who turned out to be the only casualty, and we started our two-hundred mile flight back to the carrier-completing the first carrier attack of the war against Japan.  The remainder of the flight was surprised to see #1 circling when they reached the rendezvous point.  I had a burn on the back of my neck which could have come from a close shave with a fifty-caliber machine gun bullet or fall out from all of the AA shells over the target.  Anyway, I never claimed my purple heart medal.