As 1945 opened in the Pacific Theater, the Allies were advancing through the Philippines. Their next major target would be a three-unit attack on the Japanese stronghold of Clark Field on January 7th. At the time, the Japanese had put more than 400 antiaircraft guns in the area, which would make the planned 120+ A-20 and B-25 raid more challenging. Three bomb groups, the 345th, 312th and 417th, would split into formations and fly an “X” pattern over Clark Field. Above them, two P-38 squadrons would keep an eye out for enemy planes.

Upon arriving at the mountain pass that stood between the crews and Clark Field, heavy clouds blocked their path. The formation split up in the thick clouds as pilots navigated through the pass, temporarily invisible to each other. Emerging on the other side of the clouds, the 312th’s flight leader, Lt. Joseph Rutter, and his wingman, Lt. Jones, arrived at Clark Field without the rest of their formation. Rutter feared that he might have arrived late and began his run on Clark Field—alone. Jones had chosen to circle back and rejoin the formation, which was about a mile behind him and Rutter.

As Rutter made his pass over the target area, he heard machine gun fire hit the tail of his A-20 and his gunner, M/Sgt. Wilfred Boyd, alerted him of the B-25s coming in from the left. One of the B-25 pilots, Capt. Floyd Fox, watched with growing alarm as Rutter, dropping parafrags, was about to cross his path. Just in time, the parafrags ran out and Fox was able to continue his run without incident. Rutter finished his run and joined several A-20s for the flight back to Tanauan. Reflecting on the events, Rutter said, “Strangely, no question was ever raised about the A-20 which got in front of the parade and the pilot responsible. Considerable wonder was expressed, however, about the interesting pictures recorded by Boyd’s camera when the series of 24 exposures were posted on the wall of the 389th Squadron’s intelligence office.”

Lt. Rutter’s A-20 took this photograph of the B-25 flown by Floyd N. Fox of the 499th Bomb Squadron maneuvering to avoid the parafrags released from Rutter’s aircraft.

Finally, the first formation of the 312th began a run over Clark Field. “At the turn-in point the B-25s wound up between us,” 386th Squadron 2/Lt. Bill A. Montgomery wrote, “The result was that I came in behind several, and as I traversed the target area, I overran them en route. It was a mess.” The slower B-25s were being overshot by the A-20s and ended up on the receiving end of the parafrags being dropped from above. “…after getting ahead it was my turn to receive [the B-25’s] bouncing tracers, not to mention the parafrags and various assortment of other bombs being delivered.” In short, it was pure chaos.

Aircraft from the first wave are seen attacking Clark Field on January 7th. The tail of a wrecked G4M Betty bomber from 261 Kokutai is at center left. The gray wreck at lower center is a Ki-46 Dinah reconnaissance aircraft.

Not only were the bombers being shot at by the Japanese from below, Zeros were dropping phosphorus bombs on them from above. Fortunately for the bombers, the phosphorus bombs did not explode until after the planes had already flown out of harm’s way. Soon enough, it was time to leave Clark Field and turn for home. Congested air space and chaos aside, the attack was determined to be a success. A total of 19 Japanese fighters and 12 bombers were destroyed. Clark Field was no longer a major obstacle for the Allies. Between all three groups, 11 planes were lost. Two days later with little opposition, the American invasion force landed at Lingayen Gulf.

Babo Airdrome was a key base for Japanese operations on the Vogelkop Peninsula of Dutch New Guinea. Lieutenant General George C. Kenney, commander of Fifth Air Force, hoped that this attack would catch Babo’s aircraft on the ground, but with about fifty antiaircraft positions, the Japanese base was still a formidable challenge for any attacker, especially at low level. On July 9, 1944, Col. Strauss led 24 A-20s from the 388th and 389th Squadrons against Babo. The surprise attack was highly successful, but it came at a steep price to the 389th: five men and three aircraft.

One flight leader, 1/Lt. Kenneth I. Hedges, shown here in THE QUEEN OF SPADES, lost both of his wingmen on this raid. On his left wing, at the upper right in the painting, was 1/Lt. Earl G. Hill, with his gunner Sgt. Ray Glacken. Their A-20 is shown on fire before beginning a fatal descent. A short time later, the wing spar burned through and the plane plummeted into Bentoni Bay. The explosion on the ground at the upper left shows the A-20G of 1/Lt. Walter H. Van and his gunner, S/Sgt. Gilbert V. Cooper, exploding on a taxiway on the airdrome, a victim of the antiaircraft gunners. This artwork is published in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

This print can be purchased on our website.

By August 1944, months of Allied advancement in the Southwest Pacific had forced the Japanese back to the port town of Utarom and its airdrome, Kaimana, their only major airfield left on New Guinea. On the 11th of that month, 24 A-20 crews from the 386th and 387th Squadrons were briefed by Maj. William Pagh, who told the men that there were multiple antiaircraft guns guarding Kaimana and pointed out their locations. He recommended that they stay out of the range of the guns. Targets for the mission were mainly barges just off the Utarom coastline.

Arriving over Utarom with Pagh in the lead position, the pilots spread out as they looked for targets. Pagh spotted a couple of barges off Kaimana’s shoreline, and, ignoring his own advice from earlier, made a run on them. As he pulled up and exposed the belly of his aircraft, an antiaircraft position on the north end of the runway opened up. The right engine of Pagh’s A-20 was fatally damaged, leading the plane to drop and cartwheel into the water. Pilots who watched the scene said that the “hill north of the strip looked like a solid sheet of flame from 8 to 10 M/G machine gun] positions there.”

By August 1944, Utarom was the last major Japanese operational airdrome in Dutch New Guinea. On August 11, 1944, Maj. William S. Pagh, the Group Operations Officer, led the 386th and 387th Squadrons in an attack against it and was shot down and killed. (Claud C. Haisley Collection)

Utarom was nothing but chaos. Pilots were flying in every direction, making it more difficult to make any sort of attack run without worrying about being hit by an antiaircraft gunner from below or accidentally damaging a fellow crew’s A-20. At some point, the A-20 flown by 1/Lt. Frank W. Wells was hit and he issued a mayday call. While 1/Lt. Frank Hogan had spotted Wells’ plane about half a mile ahead of his own, he did not note any hits. Hogan lost sight of the A-20 soon after and it is speculated that Wells crashed into the sea.

Once it was time to head back to Hollandia, Hogan looked for the other A-20s in his squadron, picking up Capt. Joseph B. Bilitzke flying in BABY BLITZ. Both pilots circled the area, looking for any sign of Wells or any other 386th aircraft that still might be in the area. BABY BLITZ was suddenly hit by flak, damaging both the rudder and vertical stabilizer, and knocking out most of Bilitzke’s instrument panel. Hogan and Bilitzke then headed for the nearest base, Owi, and Bilitzke made a hair-raising landing with four armed bombs still in his bomb bay. The bombs, three of which were secure and the fourth hanging precariously, were defused the next day.

Reflecting on the day’s losses, pilots realized that the location of the barges may have been a trap meant to lure pilots towards shore gun installations. While the briefing prior to the mission discussed the locations of the biggest antiaircraft guns, it’s possible that the locations of other nearby antiaircraft guns had not been mentioned. Pilots were also inadvertently putting their lives and the lives of their gunners at risk by exposing aircraft bellies to antiaircraft fire. Overall, the mission to Utarom was painful for the 312th.

Port Moresby

The town that would later become the capital city of Papua New Guinea, Port Moresby, was a major staging base for the Allies during World War II. Port Moresby’s air fields, named for their distance from the city, included: 3 Mile (Kila Kila), 5 Mile (Ward), 7 Mile (Jackson), 12 Mile (Berry), 14 Mile (Schwimmer), and 17 Mile (Durand). It was crucial for the Allies to hold onto this territory, as it was the last piece of land between the Japanese to the north and Australia to the south. The city’s occupants were subject to many Japanese bombing raids until September 1943. Postwar, Port Moresby transformed from an Australian territory to the Papua New Guinea capital in 1975. Today, all that remains of World War II are artifacts and steel matting from the runways.

Click to enlarge. In the photo on the left, taken from Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s, is the Port Moresby complex as it appeared in December 1942. At right is Port Moresby today, taken from Google Maps.

Floridablanca

Translated from Spanish as “white flower,” Floridablanca was settled as a Spanish mission in 1823. Not much is known about the area’s history, but it was taken over by the Japanese during World War II, then liberated once the Allies moved that far north. The 312th Bomb Group and 348th Fighter Group both used the air base on Floridablanca for a short time. The Philippine Air Force now uses the base and it has been renamed Basa Air Base.

Click to enlarge. In the photo on the left, taken from Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s, is Floridablanca as it appeared in 1946. At right is Floridablanca today, taken from Google Maps.

Owi Island

Owi’s only inhabitants before World War II consisted of two families, one at each end of the small island. Shortly after the arrival of Allied forces in 1944, the natives left. It took about three weeks to build the airstrip, which consisted of coral, a difficult surface to land on when it was wet. Owi was used between June and November 1944, then abandoned as U.S. forces pushed north. Traces of the runway can still be seen today.

Click to enlarge. In the photo at the top, taken from an upcoming book, is Owi Island as it appeared in August 1944. Above is Owi Island today, taken from Google Maps.

Finschhafen

In 1885, Finschhafen was settled by the German New Guinea Company. About 15 years later, it was abandoned after disease spread rapidly among the settlers and resulted in the failure of two different colonization attempts. At some point before World War II started, Lutherans built a mission station on Finschhafen. The Japanese took over the area on March 10, 1942 and held it until Australian forces moved in and captured Finschhafen on October 2, 1943. Allied forces expanded the base and used it until the end of the war. After the war ended, a huge hole was dug and much of the leftover equipment was buried. These days, Finschhafen is a quiet location.

Click to enlarge. In the undated photo at the top is Finschhafen sometime around World War II. Above is Finschhafen today, taken from Google Maps.

Gusap

Previously uninhabited, Gusap was built up into an eight-runway airfield by U.S. Army engineers. It was used from October 1943 to July 1944 by several units that included the 49th Fighter Group and 312th Bomb Group. This location was ideal for staging missions by fighters and light bombers. After the war was over, remaining aircraft were scrapped. Today, only one of the eight strips is still being used by aircraft and is noted by the balloon in the right image. The rest of the area has been turned into a cattle ranch. With the radical transformation of Gusap, the exact location of the airfields seen in the left image has become unknowable.

Click to enlarge. In the top photo, taken from Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s, is part of Gusap’s airfields as they appeared in December 1943. Above is Gusap today, taken from Google Maps.

Sources and additional reading:

https://www.pacificwrecks.com/provinces/png_port_moresby.html

https://www.britannica.com/place/Port-Moresby

https://www.pacificwrecks.com/airfields/philippines/floridablanca/index.html

http://en.wikipilipinas.org/index.php/Floridablanca,_Pampanga

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Owi_Airfield

https://www.pacificwrecks.com/airfields/indonesia/owi/index.html

https://www.pacificwrecks.com/provinces/png_finschafen.html

http://engineersvietnam.com/engineers/WWII/owi.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finschhafen

http://www.lonelyplanet.com/papua-new-guinea/morobe-and-madang-provinces/finschhafen-area/introduction

https://www.britannica.com/place/Finschhafen

https://www.pacificwrecks.com/airfields/png/gusap/index.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gusap_Airport

This post first appeared on October 2, 2015.

The Joker by Jack Fellows

On the Philippine island of Luzon, elements of the 312th Bombardment Group, nicknamed the Roarin’ 20’s, sweep across Japanese-occupied Clark Field near Manila on January 14, 1945. The attack was executed in a line abreast formation at 100 feet or less above the airfield complex. First lieutenant Wilbur L. Cleveland of the 387th Bomb Squadron, flying an A-20G sporting a winning poker hand with the face of Batman’s nemesis, “the Joker,” narrowly avoids colliding with the squadron commanding officer, Capt. John C. Alsup, in his fatally damaged A-20. A burst of flak had just exploded in the bomb bay of Alsup’s A-20, causing it to nose up and burst into flames. It then crashed into the target, killing him and his gunner, Cpl. Oscar C. Rush. The third plane was flown by 1/Lt. Ormonde J. Frison of the 386th Squadron. Clark Field was the most important and heavily defended Japanese airfield on Luzon, and the low-level attacks were key to neutralizing Japanese airpower on the island during the critical week of the American amphibious landing at nearby Lingayen Gulf. This artwork is published in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

Buy a copy of this print on our website.

While our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s doesn’t have as many long stories as some of our other books, there are a lot of great short stories sprinkled throughout the 312th Bomb Group’s history. We picked out three of them to help you get to know the 312th better.

A Bronze Star for a Creative Mind
Theodore R. Tanner, a pilot in the 386th Squadron, flew more than 70 missions during his service in the Pacific Theater. Oddly enough, none of them were the reason behind him being awarded the Bronze Star in 1944. Instead, the award came out of an idea that changed combat photography. There were problems with combat photography on an A-20: it took about half a day to install the combat camera in the tail, which meant crews could only load film during the day (potentially degrading the film’s quality) and the alternate camera location of the engine nacelle was too shaky to allow for decent photography.

Tanner designed a new mount in the lower tunnel hatch of the A-20 that had a bracket which could clear the lower gunner’s door and fold in place during a flight. This mount allowed ground crews to install or remove cameras in five seconds and remove the camera film at night. Once V Bomber Command heard about Tanner’s innovative design, he was awarded his Bronze Star and his new mount became part of the light bomber’s standard equipment.

Obscured Vision
First Lieutenant Larry Folmar was flying a mission at But on April 26, 1944, when he had an unusual close call during a bombing run. The bombs used by the A-20s on this day were 500 pounds each and set with one-second delay fuses. Given the short delay, pilots had to be very careful to maintain their distance from each other so they wouldn’t end up flying into a bomb blast. This time, Folmar got caught by a blast of mud from a bomb dropped by the preceding aircraft. The mud coated Folmar’s windshield, making it impossible for him to see what was ahead of him.

1/Lt. Larry Folmar of the 386th Squadron (shown here as a captain with his aircraft, CALAMITY JANE), had an unusual experience at But Airdrome on April 26, 1944. Mud from an exploding bomb covered Folmarʼs windshield, obscuring his view. He turned for the coast, hoping that “one of the planes ahead might skip a bomb off into the water, causing a blast of sea water that I might fly through.” That was what happened, clearing the windshield enough for Folmar to return to Gusap. (Mack E. Austin Collection)

While wondering how he was going to land when he returned home, Folmar had an idea. He wrote, “I then remembered that the far end of the landing strip we were hitting was at the coastline. It occurred to me that one of the planes ahead might, just might, skip a bomb off into the water, causing a blast of sea water that I might fly through. As I live and breathe that is what happened.” While the spray wasn’t enough to completely clear his windshield, it was enough to get home and land safely.

The Lighter Side of Missions
Once in a while, members of the ground crews were granted permission to fly with pilots on their missions. One day in June 1944, T/Sgt. George K. Hanks, Jr. rode along with 1/Lt. Robert C. Smith on a mission to a Japanese escape route behind Madang. Hanks decided to bring along his own bomb, a large rock, for Smith to release once they were over the target area. Hanks’ contribution wasn’t the only odd object dropped on the Japanese. Captain Peter J. Horan, an Australian Liaison Officer from the 389th Squadron, took his own “Bring Your Own Bomb” approach by unloading nails, grenades, books and rocks, among other things, on the targets below.

A tongue-in-cheek entry from the 312th’s Group history for June 1944 noted that the repeated missions southeast of Tadji had a strange effect on the A-20s. They “gradually acquired the ability to fly the course to Wewak, sans human control.” One pilot also reported that “his plane automatically buzzed down over Wewak and he couldn’t get control of the craft again until 3 strafing passes had been made.”

Delivered to the AAF on July 8, 1944, this “H” model went into service with the 389th Squadron in March 1945. The pilot was Maj. James M. Wylie, the 389th Squadron C.O., and he named the aircraft MICKEY, after his wife’s nickname. When S/Sgt. Orian E. Hackler, the crew chief, asked about a tail identifier, Wylie replied that it would be nice to have “X,” for “X marks the spot.”

Wylie claimed this aircraft was a “pilot’s dream,”, and he flew most of his missions in it. On one, he almost lost control of it over Nichols Field on February 6, 1945. An unexploded 20mm shell tore through one wing and the plane swooped towards the ground before Wylie regained control and returned his damaged mount to Mangaldan. Afterwards, the aircraft received only occasional small arms hits. The profile painting shows MICKEY at Mangaldan during April 1945, with 67 missions arranged around the large spade scoreboard. This aircraft carried a skull and crossbones on the nose, and the crew ID panel, done as a scroll, stated: PILOT ~ MAJ. J.M.WYLIE; on a second line: c.c. T/SGT HACKLER.

In June 1945, Wylie transferred to Headquarters, Far East Air Forces. Seventy-five of his 77 combat missions were flown in MICKEY. The aircraft was assigned next to 1/Lt. Lloyd A. Wilson, but details are lacking. Yet a third pilot also flew the plane before the war ended, and it is his name, “PILOT ~ CAPT. BEARDSLEE” that now appeared on the ID panel, reversed to white lettering on a black background that was on the plane when it was used as a backdrop for Squadron photos taken in late July 1945. By this time, the scoreboard from Maj. Wylie’s service had been removed from inside the spade design, and the name MICKEY had been replaced by LITA~BONITA. The port machine gun also was enhanced with a black background, with the forward half of the area decorated in white. It is this version that is shown on the port insert profile. Probably at this time, but perhaps earlier, a large spade was painted in a similar position on the other side of the plane, incorporating a pin-up girl from a Gil Elvgren work entitled “Fun House.” This is the image on the second profile insert. After the war ended, LITA~BONITA was flown with the rest of the Squadron’s aircraft to Biak, where it was scrapped several years later.

Some of Wiley’s significant missions in MICKEY, all in 1945, were: Tuguegarao, 2/14; Corregidor, 2/16; San Fernando, 3/11; Eiko, 3/29; Saiatau, 3/31; Ipo Dam, 4/25; Mt. Ayaas, 5/13; and Tuguegarao, 6/13.

View the color profile on page 208 of our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

Officers of the 389th Squadron assembled for this photograph at Floridablanca in late July 1945. The 389th gained A-20 pilots from the 387th Squadron when that unit prepared for the projected B-32 conversion. However, that conversion had not been completed before the war ended. From left to right, the men are: (back row) 1/Lt. Charles L. Reynolds, 1/Lt. Everard Holske, 2/Lt. Leonard Eisen, 2/Lt. Dwight L. Gnepper, 1/Lt. Kenneth L. Brown, 2/Lt. Walbert C. Brooks, 2/Lt. Joseph C. Wallman, 2/Lt. John K. Schreiber, Capt. William T. Walsh, 2/Lt. Clough H. Blake, Jr., 2/Lt. John B. Price, 1/Lt. EinoA. Salo, 2/Lt. Howard S. Britton, 2/Lt. Elmer O. Jones and 1/Lt. Henry G. Dacey; (middle row) Capt. Chester H. Hummell, 2/Lt. Thomas P. Mulrooney, Capt. Raymond W. Beardslee, W/O Charles W. Stricker, 2/Lt. George F. Howatt, 2/Lt. Frances P. Delaney, 1/Lt. Frank M. Martin, Capt. Cecil W. Shelton, 1/Lt. Lawrence O. Feldkamp, Capt. Lloyd A. Wilson, 2/Lt. Hugh T. Mulhern, 1/Lt. Joseph C. Benet, Jr., 2/Lt. Elliot W. Wooldridge, F/O William A. Bartles, III and Capt. Leonard G. Dulac; (front row) 1/Lt. Donald K. Longer, Capt. Philip H. Schaaf, F/O Jack R. England, 2/Lt. Martin E. Heck, F/O Glenn V. Walters, 1/Lt. Martin Sobel, 2/Lt. Lawrence R. Poythress, 1/Lt. Harry T. Sharkey, 1/Lt. John G. Moore, Capt. Frederick H. Wood and F/O Guy P. Clark, Jr. LITA BONITA, formerly MICKEY, is the subject of Profile #28 in Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s. Capt. Lloyd A. Wilson renamed the aircraft, which Capt. Raymond W. Beardslee also flew. (Eino A. Salo Collection)

Throughout the island-hopping campaign of the Pacific, units had to pick up and move from one base to another as they drove the Japanese northward. Just like a household move, it was organized chaos. Personal items and equipment used by the different sections were packed up into crates, hauled down to a beach and loaded into a waiting Landing Ship Tank (LST). Vehicles were driven on board and tarps were placed over stacks of crates.

Airmen of the 312th load Landing Ship Tanks (LSTs) in preparation for the voyage to Leyte in November 1944. (Russell L. Sturzebecker Collection)

After a day or two of getting everything and everyone not flying a plane to the next base on board, the men settled in for their sea journey, which could last a week or more. Sleeping quarters might be somewhere below deck or up top, under a tarp. Navy food was typically much better than what the airmen were used to, and on one trip, Adrian Bottge of the 89th Squadron, 3rd Bomb Group noticed how the sailors “look much healthier than we do. Never realized before how beat up, underfed and jaundiced looking we are.”

On a good trip, the men were able to move to their new location without Japanese interference. There was one terrifying trip when the 345th Bomb Group was attacked by kamikaze pilots on the way to Leyte in November 1944. Tragically, 111 members of that group were killed in that attack.

Upon arrival at the new base, it was time to unload and set up camp. Unloading was always a frenzy. The shipcrews were on a strict schedule, rain or shine, and anything left on board would be taken away when the LST departed. The 312th Bomb Group was also subject to Japanese raids the night the men arrived on Leyte on November 19th. This particular move was not easy for the 312th. Besides the raid, they expected to stay at their temporary camp for a few days, not seven weeks in the rain. Twenty-three inches of rain fell that month, the food was terrible and there was no mail delivery. It took until the end of December for the 312th’s base at Tanauan to be ready for the men.

A section of the 43rd Bomb Group unloads their cargo. Judging by the muddy conditions, this was probably taken at Leyte. (Leon D. Brown Jr. Collection)

HOT SHOT CHARLIE’s Final Flight
Back in March 1944, A-20G #43-9480 joined the 387th Squadron. A year and two months later, it had been designated the oldest A-20 in the squadron with 600 hours put on the original engines. By that time, it was a difficult aircraft to fly, as it was extremely unstable (possibly due to a bomb blast or hard landing damaging the frame) and black smoke would pour out of the right engine.

On the 5th, 2/Lt. Warren H. Phillips had been assigned HOT SHOT CHARLIE on a mission to Solano. He reported smoke coming from his engine after coming off the target, which wasn’t surprising. The engine, however, finally reached its end life and stopped running. As Phillips continued home on the single working engine, the dead engine burst into flames and Phillips and his gunner, Cpl. Douglas Shafer, were forced to bail out of the A-20.

Shafer landed with cuts and bruises, and Phillips with a broken leg after he slammed into the vertical stabilizer when he bailed out. The pilot was sent to a hospital at Lingayen, then went home. His gunner returned to the 387th.

1/Lt. Edward E. Bretch (on the right) of the 387th poses with Capt. Wann V. Robinson in front of HOT SHOT CHARLIE. The Squadronʼs oldest A-20, it was known for its stability problems and questionable engine performance. On May 5, 1945, 2/Lt. Warren H. Phillips flew it to bomb and strafe Solano, in northern Luzon. After leaving the target, one engine stopped running and burst into flames, forcing Phillips and Cpl. Douglas Shafer to bail out. Shafer returned to the Squadron with only cuts and bruises, but a fractured leg sent Phillips to the hospital at Lingayen, and eventually, back to the States. HOT SHOT CHARLIE crashed and burned near Mangaldan. (Wann V. Robinson Collection)

Most Memorable War Experience
In early May 1945, pilot Charles W. Stricker and gunner Ernest R. Reisinger were aboard an A-20 on an especially cloudy day. They were diverted from both their primary and their secondary target due to the bad weather. They flew on to the tertiary target, then headed home to Floridablanca on this much longer flight. As they flew back, Stricker tried to talk to Reisinger over the radio, but his gunner wouldn’t respond. Other pilots told Stricker that Reisinger was hunched over, leading the pilot to believe that his gunner was either severely wounded or dead. Upon landing, Stricker checked on Reisinger and discovered he was fast asleep. “He was astonished that I could sleep through all that,” said Reisinger.

Bringing Home a Souvenir
At the end of May 1945, the 387th and 389th were sent to strike Echague Airdrome. Edward L. Rust, a relatively new pilot in the 389th, used most of his ammunition over the target area. As he flew over a meadow, he saw muzzle flashes coming from a tree at his right. He headed for the tree, using his only working gun, which sounded a lot like a typewriter when he fired it. After he returned to base, his crew chief pulled a sapling half an inch in diameter from a wing. That was when they also noticed that the last eight inches of the propeller blades had been stained green by cut grass. Rust had been so focused on his target that he didn’t realize how low he was flying, nor did he see the tree he hit.

Find these stories in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

After a rough start at Gusap in late 1943/early 1944, the men of the 312th Bomb Group had adapted to life in their muddy, temporary home by May. For the most part, their meals consisted of canned meat and dehydrated vegetables or potatoes. The occasional shipment of fresh food from Australia was heartily welcomed by everyone. At times, men would trade items such as razors and cigarettes for bananas, papayas, or coconuts from the villagers. If they weren’t looking for something to eat, they would trade for bows and arrows to keep as souvenirs. Somehow, the 312th acquired a Coke machine with the help of Lt. Harold Friedman of the Special Services section.

New equipment and crews were filtering into the unit when they were needed, which also made life in the Pacific easier. So, too, did plumbing and wooden floors as well as a laundry service. At this point, the 312th got to watch American movies on a regular basis and visit Australia for some rest and relaxation more often. There was also less disease in camp, and all these things contributed to a higher morale among the men in the unit.

It wasn’t long after the Hollandia raids of April 1944 that rumors of moving to Hollandia began to fly. Because that base required more development before it could accommodate the 312th, the air echelon of the Group was temporarily moved to Nadzab on June 11th. The move came with a few perks, namely newer movies and treats such as cookies, candy and juice. Meanwhile, the remainder of the unit had received orders on May 30th to head to Hollandia. Their move was staggered over June and July, as there was a shortage of C-47s to transport larger groups of men.

Upon arrival at Hollandia, it looked like the Japanese had left the base in a hurry. Aside from aircraft, vehicles and equipment strewn about, they had left behind clothing and blankets. Those and the huts they lived in were burned and the equipment was stripped of anything that might prove to be valuable
for trade with infantrymen. There were instances of hungry Japanese soldiers going through camp to scavenge for food, but none of them were captured or shot by the 312th. Around the end of June, the air echelon began trickling in and got to experience the most annoying thing about Hollandia: the dust. It was everywhere and got into everything.

The 388th Squadronʼs parked A-20s can be seen at Hollandia with dust rising from a road in the background. Depending on the amount of rainfall, dust was a recurrent problem for operations from the base. (Martin P. DeNicola Collection)

Aircraft were covered as much as possible to keep the dust from getting into engines, turrets and cockpits. Taxiing around Hollandia was a tense experience because dust clouds created by A-20s greatly reduced visibility and planes seemed to come out of nowhere all of a sudden. To combat these issues, engines were kept at idling speed and line chiefs in jeeps were often used to guide pilots to the busy airstrips.

The men began to long for Gusap. It was much quieter, there was less dust, the recreation facilities were better and they got to enjoy cool breezes through their campsite. Food quality hadn’t improved and they were still waiting for more regular mail deliveries. Still, morale remained high and they knew it was a step forward in the war.

Read more about the 312th Bomb Group in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

This week, we’re listing our most popular posts published this year as determined by the number of views. Did your favorite post make the list?

Thank you for your continued support by subscribing, reading and sharing our work, and buying our books. If there’s anything you’d like to see more of, let us know in the comments. We’ll be back next year with more great content. And now, without further ado, our most popular posts of 2018.

1. Remember the 15  The 65th Squadron suffers a terrible loss on a mission to Tainan Airdrome.

2. Mickey The profile history of a 389th Squadron, 312th Bomb Group A-20, coming straight to you from our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

3. How Phosphorus was Used in the Pacific Theater During World War II After writing this post, we wanted to dive into the use of phosphorus and how it impacted air missions.

4. Lady Luck’s Unlucky Day LADY LUCK‘s pilots were having an inexplicably hard time taking off from Lipa Airdrome.

5. Your Army in the Making: The Carolina Maneuvers 1941 This video goes into some of the Stateside training done in 1941.

6. Working With the Low Altitude Bombsight This technology was used by a few heavy bomber squadrons to attack shipping targets at night.

7. The Old Man’s Ordeal A 65th Squadron B-17 crew is in the middle of a harrowing mission in this painting by Jack Fellows from our book Ken’s Men Against the Empire, Volume I.

Throughout the campaign to drive the Japanese back to Japan during World War II, bomb groups would be ordered to fly ground support missions. This typically meant targeting ammo dumps, Japanese troops and supplies, antiaircraft gun locations and flying night harassment missions.The A-20 was an effective tool for these missions due to its ability to pack a punch and its light, maneuverable design.

At the beginning of April 1945, the 312th Bomb Group carried out missions to support Filipino guerrillas as well as the 33rd and 37th Infantry Divisions. In Formosa, the list of prime targets included rail yards and alcohol plants, which produced some dramatic photography. Compared to the earlier missions flown by the 312th, there was relatively little interception from Japanese pilots. As a result, the American pilots attacked various targets with gusto, destroying warehouses, repair facilities and other buildings, and damaging rail yards and alcohol plants. They used 250-pound parafrags and 100-pound napalm bombs, which started large fires that were still smoking when the 312th was 20 miles out from the target area.

Their results caught the eye of General Kenney, who awarded the 312th with a Distinguished Unit Citation for an “outstanding performance” over the cities of Kyoshito, Eiko, Saiatau, Shinei, Banshiden, Tamazato and Suan Tau. Long distance missions like these pushed the A-20 fuel range to its limits and Kenney praised all those involved in the preparation and execution of the missions. He also commended the pilots and gunners for their target accuracy “at roof-top level with a suddenness and fierceness that prevented the Japanese from offering more than feeble opposition to the devastation bombing and strafing runs…”

The 388th and 389th Squadrons flew the 312th Bomb Group’s fifth mission to Formosa on April 2, 1945. Their targets were the rail yards and the alcohol plant at Shinei, 45 miles northeast of Kyoshito, and 20 miles southeast of Eiko. Major Joseph B. Bilitzke, C.O. of the 388th, led the mission. Nine planes from each unit carried 250-pound parademos and 100-pound napalm bombs. Shinei was a key target for two reasons: the alcohol plant, and the fact that Japanese military supplies entered and exited Shinei by rail.

The 312th Bomb Group’s unsparing attack left the Shinei alcohol plant enshrouded in a thick smoke. (Selmon W. Wells Collection)

The 312th returned to Formosa on April 4, 1945. This time the target was the Suan Tau sugar factory, west of Kagi. When the 387th, 388th and 389th Squadrons left Suan Tau, the entire factory area was ablaze.

July 1944 was a rough month for the 312th Bomb Group. In the first two weeks, the unit lost eight men and four A-20s. Two more lives and one more A-20 would be lost before the month ended. On the 22nd, Col. Robert H. Strauss led the 387th Squadron to Kokas, Dutch New Guinea to take out antiaircraft guns and other targets in the area. The geography of Kokas and the Bay of Sekar presented a unique challenge for Allied aircraft: the region was surrounded by hills, which forced the A-20s to approach the area from a higher altitude and drop rapidly before they could attack.

The 387th dropped 250-pound bombs on buildings, personnel areas and antiaircraft positions and strafed the target. Acting as a wingman for flight leader Capt. Jack W. Klein was 2/Lt. Melvin H. Kapson. His A-20 was hit multiple times by antiaircraft and machine gun fire. Kapson returned to Hollandia with 128 new holes in his plane, one of three damaged on the mission. Klein’s other wingman was 1/Lt. James L. Knarr. Flying over the water, Knarr’s A-20 was hit by flak and crashed. Kapson and Klein realized that Knarr’s plane was missing after they reformed to head back to Hollandia, but no one knew what exactly happened. It wasn’t until the photos from Klein’s belly camera were developed that everyone got to see the crash as it was captured on camera. The four photo sequence, soon named “Death of an A-20,” was published all over the world.

(Richard H. Ellis, Ernest Fuller Collections)

Knarr was flying his 70th combat mission and finished his 12-month tour of duty, and he was scheduled to go home soon. His gunner, S/Sgt. Charles G. Reichley was on his 46th mission.

1/Lt. James L. Knarr, on the left, and S/Sgt. Wilson J. Metcalf, his crew chief, stand in front of Knarrʼs A-20. (Edgar R. Bistika Collection)

For the last 50 years, Japan had been occupying the island of Formosa (now known as Taiwan). Their occupation provided an excellent element of control over the sea lanes between Formosa and the Japanese islands. They built sugar and alcohol plants on the island, which gave them a very useful byproduct: butanol. This flammable liquid was used to make aviation fuel and acetone for explosives. The island also had oil, iron, copper and aluminum, all of which were used by the Japanese. To destroy these industrial plants, U.S. crews first had to make it through the “flak belt,” the heavily-armed southern part of Formosa.

Approximately five million people lived on the island at the start of World War II, and these people were not as anti-Japanese as those on the Philippine Islands. Aircrews going down on Formosa were less likely to find individuals to help them get back to the Allied forces. Still, all eyes were on Formosa being the next stepping stone to the islands further north.

In March 1945, the 312th Bomb Group began flying its first missions to Formosa. First up was a mission to Kagi Airdrome, located in the southern half of the island. It was going to be a very long day: the flight would be more than 1000 miles round trip, which was near the limit of the A-20. About 200 miles of the flight would be over open ocean.

On March 2nd, 36 A-20s from the 386th, 387th and 388th Squadrons met up with they P-38 escorts over Mangaldan for the trip to Kagi. After making the journey to the island of Formosa, the formation began searching for Kagi in the cloudy weather. They found a target, bombed and strafed it, then formed up to head home. Something wasn’t quite right, though. As written in the 386th Squadron mission report, they bombed what they “believed to be Kagi dummy airdrome, which is at Shirakawa 5 miles S. of Kagi town…when the attack was made the pilots were not certain which drone was hit but thought it to be the dummy from available information on the drone…The revetments around the strip were reported as being in perfect condition—almost too perfect.”

It turns out that they didn’t hit Shirakawa, either. Instead, they hit Mato Airdrome, located 25 miles to the south. Years later, Maj. Richard Wilson, leader of that mission, remembered that it was overcast over the South China Sea and he could not see the waves below, which would have helped him determined the direction the wind was blowing. After flying out of the cloud bank, Wilson realized that they were too far west. He turned east, crossed the coast of Formosa and decided to attack the first airfield he saw. Joseph Rutter, who was also on the flight, had a feeling that the flight leader was lost. They were making too many turns, “roaring around over the countryside for what seemed to be half an hour, or at least much too long…”

The mission also claimed the lives of two members of the 387th Squadron. Second Lieutenant Bruce E. Nostrand’s A-20 was hit by ground fire on the return flight. It was damaged enough that Nostrand needed to ditch his plane two miles off the coast of Cape Bojeador, on the northwest point of Luzon. Neither he nor his gunner, S/Sgt. Lyle A. Thompson, made it out alive. A second A-20, flown by 1/Lt. James L. Temple, was also hit by ground fire. He and his gunner made it back to Magaldan without a hydraulic system and crash-landed without injury. A third A-20, flown by 2/Lt. Frederick C. Van Hartesveldt, hit a tree during the attack. While the tree damaged the elevator, bomb bay doors, inner left wing and stabilizer, he and his crew also made it back to base without injury.

Read this story in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

This week, we’re listing our most popular posts published this year as determined by the number of views. Did your favorite post make the list?

Thank you for your continued support by subscribing, reading and sharing our work, and buying our books. If there’s anything you’d like to see more of, let us know in the comments. We’ll be back next year with more great content. And now, without further ado, our most popular posts published in 2019.

1. The Disappearance of Capt. Kizzire’s Crew Captain William L. Kizzire’s B-25 is shot down over Boram. The crew survived and disappeared before a rescue could be made.

2. Medium Bombardment Attack and Aviation A film to introduce the Pacific Theater to men being transferred from Europe.

3. Flight map: Aerodromes and Landing Grounds February 1943 Take a look at the flight distances between Port Moresby and important locations in February 1943.

4. When Plans Go Awry: A Mission to Palau Captain John N. Barley’s B-24 is shot down after an encounter with several Japanese Zeros.

5. Shot Down at Kokas The story behind a fatal mission that took the lives of two men and produced one of the most dramatic photo series taken from a combat camera.

6. Surviving in a Japanese POW Camp Shot down by Japanese fighter pilot SFPO Shigetoshi Kudo, this B-17 crewmember was turned over to the Japanese after he escaped certain death by jumping out of his plane over New Britain.

7. Ken’s Men, Vol. II Announcement We were so excited to share the news of this new release with you!

One of the biggest elements that a bomb group kept running smoothly during World War II was the ground crews. Men who did their best to keep airplanes in good condition, even in a climate where it was difficult to do so. Men who took care of mission logistics, making sure that the airplanes were loaded with the appropriate explosives for a mission, that parachutes were in working order, communications were set up properly and so much more.

Glen C. Brown of the 386th Squadron, 312th Bomb Group was on the line one day with the rest of his ground crew when they heard explosions. Brown, who was a member of the 386th’s Armament Section, typically loaded bombs onto the A-20s and maintained the machine guns. While he had the others were working, a batch of Japanese planes attacked the airfield. “…we decided, unanimously, that there were more interesting places to be than around an aircraft, so we left abruptly!”

The 312th aircrews truly appreciated all the time and effort put in by their ground crews, recognizing the long hours they worked to keep up with the mission activity. Crew chiefs cared about their airplanes, even taking it personally if one of his A-20s didn’t return after a mission. As pilots rotated out of a squadron, crew chiefs often wondered about the type of person who would be flying his plane next, and whether or not the new pilot would treat it well. Because ground crewmen never fought in combat directly, they were never credited with combat time, and so served much longer tours of duty than their aircrews even though they were just as vital to the combat mission’s success.

Keeping the 312th Bomb Group A-20s mission-ready was hard work and frequently required long hours on the flight line for maintenance crews. To ensure that aircraft were always ready, it was often necessary to feed these work crews at the airfield. Here, maintenance men from the 387th Squadron have chow at the flight line. (Jack W. Klein Collection)

These men put in long hours in the tropical sunshine, dust, rain or mud, and the climate provided its own set of issues to deal with. Moisture often worked its way into the electrical systems by way of large electrical plugs that connected the wing and fuselage circuits, which could short-circuit the cockpit instruments. Wet plugs drove them crazy until someone had the idea to use hot air blowers to dry them out.

Cylinder heads would overheat, causing the studs that attached the exhaust ports to the cylinder heads to crystallize and break. If that happened, men spent hours removing and replacing the entire cylinder head because they couldn’t remove the remaining studs. Bushings were also replaced regularly because vibrations and heat wore them out very quickly.

It wasn’t always easy to replace parts on an airplane because there weren’t enough new materials coming in from the States. In March 1944, it was so bad that leaders in the 386th Squadron estimated that potentially 80% of the Squadron’s supply needs had not been met. Ground crews salvaged a lot of materials from wrecked or retired planes to keep their A-20s in the air, and that paid off. Average aircraft operability rates hovered around 85% since the beginning of combat operations, an excellent record for the ground crews.

Read more about the 312th Bomb Group in Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

Douglas Aircraft delivered this A-20 to the AAF on October 4, 1943. The 387th Squadron acquired this plane from the 673rd Squadron, 417th Bomb Group, on March 20, 1944, and it was assigned to Capt. Frank P. Smart, the Squadron Commander. His regular gunner was T/Sgt. Michael Music, and his crew chief was S/Sgt. Charles S. Bidek. The latter was assisted by Sgt. Donald M. Cooper.

Smart nicknamed the plane THE TEXAN, and had the flag of his home state emblazoned on the fuselage beneath the cockpit. The nickname was preceded by several colored stars shooting out of the sky. Stenciled in white in three lines above the nickname was: PILOT — CAPT. F.P. Smart, C.C. T/SGT C.S. Bidek and ASST.C.C. SGT D.M. Cooper. The plane letter “S,” after Smart’s last name, was carried on both sides of the rudder, and the Squadron’s diamond playing card emblem appeared on the lower rear fuselage. The plane did not have the horizontal white tail stripe that later identified the Group’s A-20s. The profile depicts the aircraft as it appeared at the end of March 1944.

Captain Frank P. Smart, 387th Squadron C.O., can be seen here in the cockpit of his aircraft, THE TEXAN. Returning from the “Black Sunday” mission to Hollandia on April 16, 1944, Smart ran out of fuel and ditched 30 miles west of Saidor. That was the last time anyone saw Smart and his gunner, T/Sgt. Michael Music. (Edgar R. Bistika Collection)

The A-20 had been with the 387th less than a month when Capt. Smart ditched it in the ocean 30 miles west of Saidor, New Guinea, on the April 16, 1944 “Black Sunday” mission. The plane ran out of fuel on the return flight from an attack on Hollandia, New Guinea, after it encountered severe weather. Although crews from circling planes spotted Smart and Music inside a life raft, the men were never heard from again.

Today, THE TEXAN lies beneath 60 feet of water about one quarter-mile offshore from Nom Plantation, known as Yalau Plantation during the war.

Read more about this and the other profile aircraft in Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

On April 2, 1945, Maj. Joseph B. Bilitzke, C.O. of the 388th Squadron, depicted here at upper left in his plane, BABY BLITZ II, led the 388th and 389th Squadrons, 312th Bomb Group from Mangaldan, Philippines, in an attack on the railroad yards and the fuel alcohol plant at Shinei, Formosa. This was a prime target for two reasons: the alcohol plant produced butanol, used in making aviation fuel and acetone for explosives, and Shinei was a major railroad hub for that part of Formosa. Bilitzke’s wingmen were 2/Lt. Dale C. Fritzel, flying the A-20H SWEET LEILANI at lower right, and 2/Lt. Robert J. Dicker, at top middle in tail letter “D.” When the strafers were finished, the alcohol plant was covered in thick black smoke. Coming off the target, the planes continued to strafe traffic on a bridge over the adjacent river. The mission lasted six hours, close to the maximum range for the A-20. Attacks such as this by the Fifth Air Force strafer units significantly degraded Japanese war-making capabilities on the island.

This dramatic illustration by Jack Fellows is available for purchase on our website.

This week, we’re listing our most popular posts published this year as determined by the number of views. Did your favorite post make the list?

Thank you for your continued support by subscribing, reading and sharing our work, and buying our books. If there’s anything you’d like to see more of, let us know in the comments. We’ll be back next year with more great content. And now, without further ado, our most popular posts published in 2020.

1. Adrift at Sea: A Chance Encounter A downed aircrew from the 345th Bomb Group waits for rescue.

2. Alcohol Busters Highlighting one of the paintings by aviation artist Jack Fellows that appears in our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

3. A Collection of Photos Here, we shared some of the photos that don’t make it in our books.

4. Ditch at Sea and Live in a Boeing B-17 Learn all about the procedures taken to prepare for and ditch a B-17.

5. Takeoff Snafu A 22nd Bomb Group mission started off on the wrong wing…

6. Roland Fisher’s Brush with Death This member of the 43rd Bomb Group had two close calls with Japanese aircraft. Here is one of the stories.

7. Loss of PLUTO II No one saw this 43rd Bomb Group B-17 get shot down, a mystery that wasn’t solved until 1946.