For nearly three weeks, the 312th called the S.S. Nieuw Amsterdam home. This ship was originally a Holland-America luxury liner that carried 800 passengers from Southampton to New York in six days. When Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, the Nieuw Amsterdam was sent to Nova Scotia and turned into a troop ship.

The S.S. Nieuw Amsterdam would take the 312th to Australia.

The 312th was crammed aboard this ship with a Dutch crew of 600 and over 7000 other men. Officers slept in staterooms, and the enlisted men slept wherever they could– on deck, below in hammocks, or on mattresses. Life on the ship consisted of two meals a day, a news broadcast, playing poker, reading, and whatever other activities the men could think of. There were occasional life boat drills and heated discussions as well. On November 19th, 1943, after a two month journey, the Nieuw Amsterdam docked in Sydney, Australia.
Once the 312th reached Sydney, they were taken to the tent camp Warwick Farms Racetrack, where they stayed for two days. On the 21st, half of the Group traveled to Brisbane, 600 miles to the north. There they waited for a couple of days before the other half of the Group joined them at Camp Moorooka. The men had to get used to spring weather (since they left autumn behind in the norther hemisphere), driving on the opposite side of the road in the right side of a vehicle, beer being served at room temperature, and the conversion between the American dollar and Australian pound.
About the same time the 312th made it to Australia, the unassembled P-40Ns made it to Archerfield, the main airport in Brisbane.

Richard A. Wilson of the 386th Squadron in his P-40N at Gusap.

The 312th relocated to Archerfield because they would be flying these planes to New Guinea. The N model was a lighter, faster version of the P-40 that was good to fly for fun as well as for combat. It also had smaller, lighter undercarriage wheels, head armor, four wing-mounted guns and aluminum radiators and oil coolers. The 386th Squadron was the first of the Group to receive this plane, and they wasted no time becoming proficient in flying the P-40s. On December 10th, the Squadron set off for Gusap. They reached their destination on the 13th without incident.
Meanwhile, the 389th had arranged to share P-40s with the 49th Fighter Group. They left Brisbane by rail to Townsville, where they climbed aboard a C-47 bound for Port Moresby and arrived there on the 13th. While flying with the 49th, the men learned patrol and escort mission procedures, practiced their dive-bombing skills and experienced antiaircraft fire on fighter sweeps to Finschhafen.
By the end of 1943, the Group was reassigned from dive-bombing to light bombardment. This became official on December 21st, but the Squadrons got these orders over several weeks. The 386th transferred on the 21st, the 387th on the 27th, followed by the 388th and 389th on January 8, 1944. During this change, the Group would keep flying the P-40s until they got new planes.
The ground echelon was still at Camp Moorooka in November, and they prepared for the journey to Port Moresby. After arriving on December 21st, the men realized they were in a war zone with the half-submerged S.S. Macdhui (bombed by the Japanese in June 1942) as a constant reminder. The men got settled at Seventeen Mile, also called Durand, Airdrome, a drier section of New Guinea, located away from the rain belt of the Owen Stanley Mountains.

Durand Airdrome.

Even though they were in a drier area, the men still had to take precautions against malaria by taking Atabrine tablets on a regular basis. Living conditions were fairly rustic and the men would bathe by pouring water into their helmets and then washing and rinsing with the same water. The ground echelon wouldn’t join the air echelon at Gusap until the very end of December 1943.

On December 28, 1943, the 312th ground echelon made its way to Gusap to rejoin the rest of the Group. They arrived at the beginning of the rainy season when razor-sharp kunai grass grew up to ten feet tall, insects, rats and snakes roamed freely, and the soil turned into thick mud with all the rain. The men spent countless hours digging ditches to drain the water from the camp. The 386th Squadron started calling themselves “The 386th Engineers” to try and lighten the mood while doing the hard labor. The Group had trouble getting sanitary water, which meant drinking chlorinated water from Lister bags and washing clothes in the muddy Ramu River. On top of that, skin fungus and malaria were two of the many illnesses the 312th had to contend with. They did manage to have fun by playing sports like basketball and volleyball; they also gambled.
With the new year came sporadic attacks by the Japanese on Nadzab and Gusap. Most of the raids prior to January 15th were not taken very seriously. In the past, the Japanese would strafe the base and not cause very much damage. However, on the 15th, the Japanese launched a surprise attack on Nadzab and Gusap in hopes of discouraging the Allies from finishing the base at Nadzab and gaining reinforcements. Early that morning, various aircraft from 68, 78 and 248 Sentai took off from Wewak in poor weather. The pilots from 68 and 78 Sentai focused on shooting up parked C-47s and P-47s on two of the runways at Nadzab. The Allies got to their antiaircraft guns shortly afterwards and chased off the attackers, who flew on to Boram where they damaged four P-47s and three C-47s. Back at Gusap, the 312th was getting ready for breakfast when eight Oscars from 248 Sentai started strafing the base. There was no alert, so the men jumped into their waterlogged foxholes and hoped they would not be hit by the shells. None of the Group’s P-40s were damaged, but it was the last time the men took an air raid lightly. Shrapnel and fragments from bombs and exploding ack-ack shells raining down on the tents convinced them of that.
Throughout January 1944, the 312th started transition training at Port Moresby on the A-20 Havoc. Pilots received two-engine training on B-25D Mitchells before they got in the cockpit of the A-20s. They learned about two features of the plane that could possibly kill the pilot: the vertical stabilizer being in line with the pilot’s bail out path and the engines’ placement behind the cockpit. The gunners did not have to worry about this because they could escape through the bottom hatch. The A-20G could carry 4000 pounds of bombs, had nine .50-caliber machine guns and was built with a solid nose.

Two of the 312th’s A-20s at Durand Airdrome.

The 386th Squadron was the first to train and fly the A-20. The planes arrived from the U.S. by ship and were assembled in Townsville, Australia. Pilots flew to Townsville in a C-47 and would fly back to Port Moresby in their new planes. Of course there was always the occasional adventure while flying back from Townsville.
On January 19th, 1/Lt. John M. Huber, 2/Lt. Eliot R. Young and their gunners, Thomas Smith and James Wannich, respectively, were flying to Horn Island when they became separated from the rest of the formation. Due to an error in navigation, the pilots became lost. They force-landed on Mornington Island, which happened to be 450 miles to the south of Horn Island.

Lt. John Huber’s A-20 stuck in the sand after landing on Mornington Island.

They spent ten days there waiting for help and surviving the elements. A PBY Catalina on patrol spotted the four men on January 28th, picked them up and flew them to Karumba, where they spent the next three weeks recovering from their ordeal. They knew they were lucky to be alive. Throughout the 312th’s stay at Port Moresby, there were several fatalities. 2/Lt. Chester B. Rimer was practicing a bombing run on February 4th when his plane spiraled into the sea with Pvt. Stanley J. Monroe, PFC Morlan B. Priebe and Cpl. Mitchell P. Iler aboard as passengers. On the 22nd, the 388th’s B-25 AVAILABLE JONES disappeared with 1/Lt. Anthony Hartley, 1/Lt. George K. Nichols, Sgt. Claude O. Langlinais, Capt. Samuel D. Perry, 1/Lt. Henry E. Felix, 2/Lt. Leo W. Tiberghien and 2/Lt. Hugh H. Eaton on board. The 388th lost three more members on March 26th when an A-20 carrying 1/Lt. John W. Hoover, Sgt. Warren E. Pelissier and S/Sgt. Louis E. Lawson crashed not long after taking off in a thunderstorm.
The 386th also got to be the first squadron of the Group to take the A-20s into combat. The Squadron flew a mission to Alexishafen on February 25th to take out the Japanese antiaircraft positions.

Alexishafen before it was destroyed by Allied bombings.

The mission was a success. Three days later, they wrote off their first A-20, O’RILEY’S DAUGHTER, after the pilot forgot to lower the landing gear, which damaged the plane beyond repair. It wasn’t long before the rest of the squadrons would join the 386th in their new A-20s.

Throughout February, the 312th air echelon was completing training at Port Moresby. The ground echelon kept busy at Gusap by trying to win the drainage battles and building roads and showers at the base. Once the rainy season ended, the Group succeeded in its drainage projects, constructed buildings and sidewalks, and remodeled the quarters. The men also planted vegetable and flower gardens. The 386th and 387th enlisted men decided to build clubs for their respective squadrons. The Group formed a baseball league and a friendly rivalry between the teams of officers and enlisted men, which gave the men another form of entertainment in their down time. Finally, life at Gusap was improving.

Officers and enlisted men of the 312th play a friendly game of baseball.

The men never forgot they were in a war. The return of the air echelon to Gusap was staggered with the 387th arriving on March 7th, the 389th on the 11th and the 388th returning on the 27th. Not long after each squadron arrived came the first taste of combat. The 387th Squadron flew its first combat mission on March 8th, the 389th on the 13th and the 388th on the 29th. March was a difficult month for the 389th Squadron with the loss of four crews. On the 13th, nine planes from the 389th flew a mission to Alexishafen. Maj. Wells led the mission and was hit by antiaircraft fire during the attack, but was able to ditch in the ocean. Col. Strauss left Lt. Hedges to lead the rest of the formation home while he circled over Wells and his gunner, S/Sgt. Jack W. Bachelder. After the two were picked up by a PBY Catalina, Strauss flew back to Gusap.
The seven remaining A-20s flew into bad weather on their way back to Gusap. Hedges was running low on fuel and figured the safest thing to do would be to cross the Finnesterre Mountains and glide into Gusap if necessary. When there was a break in the clouds, Hedges saw three other planes instead of six.
2/Lt. Calvin Slade was a pilot in one of the remaining planes, but he was having trouble keeping his position in the bad weather and decided to leave the formation and turn back. Relying on his instruments, Slade flew to the ocean where the cloud bank ended. From there, he followed the coastline and eventually found his way to the Ramu River and Gusap. The three missing A-20s never made it back.
The next day, the Squadron began looking for the missing crews or plane wreckage but could not find either. The searched continued for a week before the Squadron gave up. The men thought the crews had either run out of fuel or crashed into the mountains. Nearly 40 years later, the aircraft belonging to 2/Lt. Henry J. Miar and gunner S/Sgt. Harley A. Spear was discovered in the Finnesterre Mountains near Saidor. Over the next few years, searchers found the other two planes flown by 2/Lt. Valerie L. Pollard and gunner Sgt. Dominick J. Licari and 2/Lt. Carl H. Hansen and gunner Sgt. Ernest Bustamante. They had flown in formation into the mountains.

The tail section of A-20 #42-54117.

The fourth loss occurred March 22nd when the 389th was flying to Valif Island for another mission. As pilots were maneuvering to avoid being hit by antiaircraft fire, the formation approached the tree-lined coast. 1/Lt. Cyril J. Karsnia’s aircraft clipped a palm tree, flipped over, crashed and exploded on the ground. He and his gunner, Cpl. James B. Caldwell, did not survive. With this accident came the question, was the 389th was jinxed? A quarter of the Squadron’s strength was lost in less than two weeks.
Lts. Edgar Hambleton and Kenneth Hedges put a stop to those thoughts with their narrow escapes. During a mission to Wom Point on March 25th, the 389th was bombing and strafing when an explosion occurred in front of Hamblelton’s plane. Debris from the explosion shattered the windscreen and a piece of glass hit Hambleton’s face. The shard was found to be part of a 500-pound bomb. Hambleton credited wearing his helmet and goggles on every mission for saving his vision and possibly his life.
Two days after Hambleton’s close call, the 389th was once again on a mission to Wom Point. Hedges dove down on his target, but miscalculated his pullout and slammed the rear of his A-20 into the ground while trying to escape a disastrous wreck. While pulling up, Hedges clipped a coconut tree with one wing. The collision ripped off one bomb bay door and left the other attached by the rear hinge, banging against the fuselage. Because the plane was in such poor shape, Hedges told his gunner, S/Sgt. Thomas A. Donovan, to prepare for a water landing. This was aborted when the other bomb bay door fell off and the plane gained some altitude. The new problem was coconut leaves getting stuck in the starboard engine, causing it to overheat. Hedges was able to keep the engine temperature in the “green” zone by continuously changing the power setting, and the plane limped back to Gusap.
Hedges had sent various radio transmissions about his status, and by the time he got to the runway, people had lined up to watch his landing. After he landed, he applied the brakes very hard and caused the landing gear to lock. The plane was damaged beyond repair and became a source for spare parts. Many of the men were amazed that the plane had made it back to Gusap. These two experiences banished the thought of a jinx on the 389th.

Lt. Kenneth Hedges poses with his plane back at Gusap after hitting a tree on a mission to Wom Point.

Hollandia, located on the northern coast of Netherlands, New Guinea, was an isolated town captured by the Japanese in April 1942. From there, they built the Hollandia, Cyclops and Sentani airdromes and a satellite strip at the nearby village of Tami. Although Hollandia had its strategic value, it was not a major target until 1944. Fifth Air Force finished pounding Wewak, the main base for the Japanese Army Air Force, in mid-March of 1944. The Japanese turned Hollandia into their major base and started a tremendous build up to try and take New Guinea back from the Allies. The Japanese Army High Command figured that Hollandia was out of the Allies’ reach and that they were safe from any attacks.

Operation Reckless was in the works when the Americans broke the Japanese military code and discovered that the enemy felt secure. The Japanese had no idea that the newest P-38 Lightning, the J model, was equipped with wing tanks that enabled the planes to fly all the way to Hollandia. Fifth Air Force modified 75 older Lightnings to carry long range fuel tanks as well.
General MacArthur planned to invade Hollandia with the use of surprise and deception. With the help of Gen. Kenney, Fifth Air Force was able to lure the Japanese into the trap. Kenney told the P-38 pilots that they could not fly farther than Tadji, a village at least 100 miles away from Hollandia, and that they must not stay in the area for longer than 15 minutes if the pilots became engaged in combat. He also began ineffective night raids to make the Japanese think the Allies did not dare fly daylight raids without escorts. This worked so well that Tokyo Rose began mocking the Allies, and the Japanese started parking their planes near the runways because there were not enough revetments.

Kenney wanted to make a low-level strike, but there were many antiaircraft guns that would have to be taken out by the B-24s first. On March 29th, a message from the Japanese Army High Command to Lt. Gen. Kumaichi Teramoto was intercepted by the Allies. This message was ordering Teramoto to move the airplanes stationed at Hollandia because of Fifth Air Force’s planned attack, which made the timing of the B-24 assault urgent. Maj. Gen. Ennis C. Whitehead would be the man in charge of carrying out the attack.

Stay tuned for part 2!

Fifth Air Force began attacking Hollandia on March 30, 1944 with B-24 Liberators escorted by 80 Lightnings. They met 40 enemy aircraft, but did not lose any planes. The next day, the heavy bombers went back and finished softening Hollandia for the low-level A-20 attacks scheduled for April 3rd. The 312th’s A-20s would not be alone in this endeavor. They would be joined by B-24s from the 22nd, 43rd and 90th Bomb Groups, B-25s from the 38th and 345th Bomb Groups and A-20s from the 3rd Bomb Group. The 234 bombers would be escorted by 76 P-38s, which would make this the largest formation of Fifth Air Force aircraft at this point of the war. The 900 mile roundtrip mission would be the longest yet for the 312th. Col. Strauss gave his intelligence officers, operations officers and squadron commanders a thorough briefing the night before Operation Reckless was to commence. He warned the pilots to closely monitor their fuel supply because this mission was close to the 950 mile range of the A-20, and he showed them how to switch between fuel tanks.
The Group left Gusap at 0850 on April 3rd, formed up over Dumpu and met up with their fighter cover. The 312th, recently choosing the nickname of the Roarin’ 20′s, flew to Hollandia with the 3rd Bomb Group. When the planes were about two miles away from Hollandia, a Ki-43 Oscar tried to attack the formation, but was quickly taken care of by the P-38 fighters.
The B-24s started pounding Hollandia with 1000-pound bombs. The B-25s and A-20s made their runs after the heavy bombers came through. The 312th’s goal was to destroy as many Japanese huts, camps, airstrips, storehouses, antiaircraft gun positions and aircraft dispersal areas as possible. While hitting the targets at 30 second intervals, the A-20s dropped bombs and fired their .50-caliber guns, damaged or destroyed several aircraft on the ground and started many fires.
Maj. William Kemble led the 388th Squadron through the heavy barrage of antiaircraft fire, flying his plane up and down to dodge the flak. His gunner, Sgt. William Ernst, had a close call during the flight. A metal fragment from a burst hit a .50-caliber bullet in the chain-feeding mechanism of the right hand gun, causing the bullet to explode and hit Ernst’s dog tag. Ernst was sure he had been shot, but examined himself when he did not see any blood. He looked at his dog tag and realized that had taken the bullet for him. The dog tag was never bent back into shape, but remained a good luck charm for Ernst.
After the day’s mission, the pilots of the 312th discovered they did not need to be so worried about the A-20 fuel supply. They had plenty of gas left, so there would be one less thing to worry about on future flights to Hollandia.
Fifth Air Force attacked Hollandia again on March 30th, March 31st and April 3rd. During that time, they lost one P-38, but destroyed over 300 Japanese aircraft. Sixty Japanese fighters came to meet the groups on April 3rd and, to the dismay of the Japanese, 26 of them were shot down. Gen. Kenney was congratulated by Gen. MacArthur in an uncoded telegram to further dishearten their foe.

Hollandia before Operation Reckless.

Hollandia after Operation Reckless.

Kenney continued organizing missions to Hollandia on April 5-8th. The 312th was sent to Humboldt and Jautefa Bays to take out various military targets including Japanese ships and barges. The Roarin’ 20′s left the bays enveloped in a plume of black smoke that rose over 1000 feet. The Group was not able to attack Hollandia on the 8th because of the infamous bad weather.

Some of the Japanese aircraft after Fifth Air Force bombed Hollandia.

MacArthur wanted to invade Hollandia on April 22nd, however, Kenney wanted to make sure none of the Japanese planes survived the previous attacks and that reinforcements had not arrived. He chose April 16th as the day for the last attack on  Hollandia. This day would come to be known as “Black Sunday.”

The 312th was back to attacking Hollandia with bombers from the rest of Fifth Air Force: B-24s from the 22nd, 43rd and 90th Bomb Groups, B-25s from the 38th and 345th, and A-20s from the 312th, 3rd and 417th (a new bomber unit). These 216 planes with 76 P-38 escorts from the 8th and 475th Fighter Groups would be in the air once again on April 16, 1944. The only 312th Squadron not flying along was the 386th.

Bad weather at Hollandia delayed the Group from leaving Gusap until 1055. The crews bombed their targets of barges, stores and fuel dumps in between Sentani Lake and Jautefa Bay. After making their runs, the 312th formed up and headed for Gusap. With decent weather for the first half of the journey back, the men were able to grab a bite to eat while they flew home.

This photo from the Black Sunday raid shows the attacks going on behind the Japanese officer quarters.

As they flew on towards the Ramu Valley, conditions rapidly deteriorated. The planes were near Amaimon, 78 miles north of Gusap, when the weather completely closed in around them. Col. Strauss was in the lead and had to decide what the best way back home would be. He rejected flying to Saidor because he did not know what the weather was like there or if Saidor would be able to handle the number of planes since this base was only a few weeks old.
Strauss and the rest of the formation circled for about an hour in hopes of spotting a break in the clouds. As they circled, visibility improved enough for the hilltops to be seen, and Strauss thought there might be fair skies on the other side. Sure enough, he was right. At 1715, the Group began landing at rainy Gusap. Not everyone stayed with Col. Strauss. There were still 16 312th aircraft somewhere out in the stormy weather. The 312th wasn’t the only group with missing crews. By the end of the day Fifth Air Force could not account for 70 planes.

By nightfall, 12 Roarin’ 20′s aircraft had landed at Faita, Saidor and Finschhafen, four at each base. There were still four crews missing: Capt. Frank P. Smart with gunner T/Sgt. Michael Music, Lt. Glen Benskin and S/Sgt. Winifred F. Westerman, 2/Lt. Joseph E. Gibbons and Cpl. Orville J. Rhodes, and 2/Lt. Charles H. Davidson and Sgt. John J. McKenna.

Smart had been granted permission from Col. Strauss to leave the formation and fly to Saidor. He left with four other planes piloted by 1/Lts. Donald J. McGibbon and Robert J. Findley, and 2/Lts. Robert C. Smith and James L. Knarr.

Knarr landing his plane at Gusap in April 1944.

As they flew, the weather improved and Smart, Findley and Knarr decided to fly five miles offshore to avoid enemy ack-ack, while  McGibbon and Smith stayed near the coastline. At 1730, McGibbon heard Smart contacting a Catalina about ditching. As Smart descended, Smith noted that the propellers were working and thought Smart wanted to ditch while he could still control his plane. Smart and Music made it out of the plane safely, McGibbon and Findley radioed Smart’s position to Saidor and two PT boats that seemed to be on their way to the ditching site. Feeling confident that Smart and his gunner would soon be in good hands, the remaining crews flew off to Saidor. The next day, there was still no sign of Smart or Music. The four planes flew over the ditching site and saw the submerged plane, but neither crew member. Their fate is still a mystery.

Stay tuned for part two!

Larry Hickey, author of the Eagles Over the Pacific book series, will be interviewed by Warbird Radio this Thursday, April 1, at 10AM Eastern Time. He will be talking about the latest book, Rampage of the Roarin’ 20′s.  Edward Cassidy of the 388th Squadron in the 312th Bomb Group will also be on this segment. Tune in here.

The little-known 25th Liaison Squadron was instrumental in the rescue of many downed crews, especially on Black Sunday. Mainly enlisted men flew Stinson L-5 Sentinels and Piper L-4A Grasshoppers, which could takeoff and land on much shorter runways than the bombers.

The L-4 JUG HAID.

Because of this capability, A Flight, the group based at Gusap, received the nickname of the “Guinea Short Lines.” Their symbol of a kangaroo was very fitting for this squadron that hopped all over New Guinea. The “Guinea Short Lines” would play a key role in the rescue of three Roarin’ 20′s crews.

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Out of the four crews that had not been accounted for by the end of April 16th, one would never make it back. After ditching in the sea near Yalau Plantation, Smart and Music waited to be picked up by a Catalina. They were never seen or heard from again. The other three crews, 1/Lt. Glen Benskin and S/Sgt. Winifred F. Westerman of the 387th Squadron, 2/Lt. Joseph E. Gibbons and Cpl. Orville J. Rhodes of the 388th Squadron, and 2/Lt. Charles H. Davidson and Sgt. John J. McKenna also of the 388th, had their own stories of survival in returning to the 312th.
Lt. Benskin was flying back from the Hollandia raid with the rest of the 312th when he discovered his radio did not work and he lost contact with his wingmen. Benskin spotted Smart’s plane, THE TEXAN, and followed him for awhile. Smart soon appeared to head for Wewak as he turned towards the Ramu River, so Benskin thought Smart might be lost and flew off on his own. Benskin’s gunner, Westermann, told Benskin that their aircraft BENNY’S BABY did not have much fuel left and that they needed to land. Benskin made a gear-up landing and set down in a kunai grass swamp 200 yards from the Ramu River and 20 miles north of the Japanese-occupied village of Annenberg. The grass spun their plane around and the nose ended up bent sideways, which did not let the canopy of the cockpit open. Benskin was helped out through a window by Westermann.

Benskin’s plane in the kunai grass.

The two men spent the night battling mosquitoes and leeches in the swamp. The next morning, a search plane spotted the men and dropped supplies. With that came a note saying they should walk west ten miles to a native village, but that was nearly impossible due to the thick kunai grass that was up to ten feet tall in some areas.
While the men were building a shelter a few hundred yards away from the crash site, Benskin accidentally cut his knee with his folding machete. It wasn’t long before the wound became infected. At this point, the chance of being rescued was not good. With the Japanese so close by, a rescue plane could not risk landing on the river. After some searching, a suitable site that could be turned into an improvised landing strip was spotted about a mile and a half downstream. The area was cleared by P-40s from the 49th Fighter Group dropping belly tanks and setting them on fire with tracer rounds and then the men received supplies for making the 225-foot strip. Fifteen days after Benskin had landed in the swamp, the men were back at Gusap. They were rescued by S/Sgt. Walter A. James of the 25th Liaison Squadron. James first took Benskin to Gusap and then returned to the crash site for Westermann about an hour later. Benskin had scrub typhus, malaria and blood poisoning due to his leg wound and spent six weeks in the Gusap Field Hospital. His gunner fared much better and was in good condition when the two were rescued.

Lt. Benskin recovering at Gusap.

Stay tuned for part three of the Black Sunday raid.

LADY CONSTANCE, the plane belonging to Lt. Gibbons, was having engine trouble on the way back from Hollandia. As Gibbons trailed behind the 312th formation, he discovered that the 30 gallons of fuel left in the tanks would not get him to Saidor or Gusap. He turned back to land in a clearing he saw about 20 miles north of Faita. With the waning daylight, it was much harder for Gibbons to survey the area. Suddenly, the left engine quit and the aircraft crashed into a ridge. Gibbons ended up with a gash on his head, but his gunner Rhodes escaped with minor cuts and bruises. The men spent a long night under a parachute that did not keep out the mosquitoes. Sgt. James left Gusap in search of Gibbons and Rhodes. He spotted them after seeing a flare sent up by Gibbons and dropped rations and medical supplies. Later that day, Maj. William Pagh flew over and dropped a map and a note instructing the men to stay by the plane and saying that there were no enemies in the area.

Lt. James thought he could fly the men out if they built a strip for him to land his L-5. He dropped a map showing a clearing two miles away where he would meet Gibbons and Rhodes. The next day, James was back with more supplies and a note requesting the men to clear an area at least 150 paces long and informing them that T/Sgt. Allen J. Lockwood would be picking them up soon. That afternoon, Lockwood landed his L-4 on the soft strip and realized he would not be able to reach takeoff speed with another person on board. He stayed with the men overnight and helped them clear out more grass. The next day, the ground was still soft, but with the help of the wind, Lockwood was airborne with Gibbons. There was not enough daylight to go back and get Rhodes, who ended up spending the night worrying about Japanese troops. Lockwood returned to the site and retrieved Rhodes the next morning.

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Lt. Davidson was flying his plane, THE HELL’N PELICAN II, with two other aircraft lagging behind the main formation making its way back from Hollandia. This three-aircraft flight, led by 1/Lt. Edward T. Cassidy, burned more fuel as they tried to catch up. Davidson knew that he could not stay with the group much longer because he was very low on fuel. He relayed the information to Cassidy and then left the two planes to find a clearing he had passed by not too long ago. He gave his gunner, Sgt. John McKenna the option to bail, but McKenna decided to stay with Davidson. As Davidson lowered the flaps for landing, the left engine cut out, and the aircraft landed nearly 50 yards from the jungle’s edge. The uninjured men climbed out of the lightly damaged aircraft and prepared to spend the night in the jungle.

Davidson’s plane remained where it landed until 1984 when it was salvaged by the Royal Australian Air Force.

The next morning, the men discovered the turret guns still worked since they ran off the plane’s battery. They took turns manning the guns while waiting for help. Supplies were dropped from a P-40 (those disappeared into the jungle), followed by an A-20, and two B-24s. Intelligence officers at Gusap thought the best way to rescue the two men would be for them to meet up with Gibbons and Rhodes, 16 miles to the southwest. The men set off toward the other crew, only to be caught in a heavy downpour that night. This forced the men to find higher ground. The next morning, they returned to the A-20 because their compass had been ruined by the water and they needed it to navigate through the swamp. The next rescue plan was to clear a strip for the “Guinea Short Lines” to land. After spending five days trying to clear the grass, the L-4A pilot decided landing there would not work.

On April 24th, the town of Madang was secured by the Allies. It was decided that Davidson and McKenna should float 60 miles down the Gogol River to Madang. Two one-man rafts were dropped, and the 312th monitored their progress from the air as the crew made its way downstream.  They signaled for a five-man raft so it would be easier to stay away from crocodiles in the river. They found the new raft in a tree a day later and received a note saying they were two miles away from Astrolabe Bay, south of Madang. Sixteen days after setting off from Gusap on April 16th, the men made it to the bay, where Australians took them to Madang. From there, two L-5s flew the men back to Gusap. This was McKenna’s third crash landing, and it left him feeling like he would die if he flew again. He was granted a request for ground duty back at the States and boarded a B-25 for Nadzab, the first step in returning to the States. The plane that carried him out of Nadzab disappeared into a storm, never to be seen or heard from again.

If you’re interested in learning more about the 312th Bomb Group and you haven’t done so already, look into adding our book to your collection! Rampage of the Roarin’ 20′s traces the 312th from the Group’s formation stateside through the end of WWII. It’s packed with stories, photos, maps, and a color section that features the art of Jack Fellows! Check out some sample pages on our website.

This is the last installment in the series involving the 312th on Black Sunday. Read the previous installment here.

The US wasn’t the only country that lost aircraft and crews around Black Sunday. Two weeks prior, a violent storm took a toll on the Japanese Navy when the Commander in Chief, Admiral Mineichi Koga, was killed in a plane crash. Koga believed the Americans would invade the Netherlands New Guinea (the western half of the island of New Guinea) and he wanted to be closer to the action to better direct the Navy’s response. On March 31st, he and his staff boarded two flights from the Caroline Islands to Mindanao in the Philippines. While in the air, the planes encountered a storm and Koga’s plane crashed into the ocean, killing all aboard. The second plane transporting Koga’s Chief of Staff, Vice Admiral Shigeru Fukudome, crash-landed in Bohol Strait. The survivors, including the injured Fukudome, made it to shore, but did not make it back to the Japanese forces in the Philippines until April 10th. Fukudome had important documents with him, including Koga’s “Z Plan,” which was recovered by Filipino guerrillas and turned over to the Americans. The Americans then made copies and returned the originals to the crashed plane. The Japanese never knew the Americans intercepted their “Z Plan.”

Though Black Sunday was a bitter loss for Allied airforces, the operation it was a part of was an overwhelming success. On April 3rd, the Fifth Air Force attack nearly demolished the 6th Air Division, which led to Lt. Gen. Giichi Itabana being relieved of his command. Twelve days after the attack, Gen. Teramoto withdrew the rest of the 4th Air Army to Manado, hundreds of miles away from the action around Hollandia. On April 22nd, Allied forces landed at Homboldt Bay, Tanahmerah Bay, Tadji and Aitape with little opposition. Operation Reckless was working according to plan.

Wrecked Japanese aircraft at Hollandia

As the 312th reflected on the events of Black Sunday, the biggest obstacle of the day was the weather on the flight home to Gusap. Weather in the Ramu Valley tended to get stormy between 1530 and 1630 each day, which meant flights needed to leave by 1000 to avoid the storms on the trip home. That day, the Group left a little before 1100, though the pilots did not have a choice in the matter. Arriving at the target, there was no opposition from the Japanese in the air or on the ground at Hollandia. Aside from leaving late, the formation missed Hollandia by 100 miles due to a navigation error. The fuel used up during that time may have made a difference for crews as they tried to get home.

Lt. Nathaniel Rothstein noted three rules pilots need to follow: stay with the formation and follow the flight leader, flight leaders must follow squadron leaders and the squadrons must follow the lead plane. The flights that stayed with Col. Strauss on April 16th made it back safely. After the raid, Strauss told his pilots, “If you follow me, I’ll take full responsibility for bringing you back safely. If you go off on your own, upon you rests the responsibility of you and your ship.”

The men of the 312th tried not to dwell on the events of April 16th. These type of events were the occupational hazards that came with the job of a combat pilot. After the Hollandia raids, their sights were set on other Japanese bases in New Guinea: But, Boram, Wewak and Dagua were up next.

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In January 1945, the 312th was flying missions over Japanese territory on Luzon. As the pilots flew around looking for targets, they would sometimes come across haystacks in the middle of fields. These haystacks looked perfectly until harmless until flames erupted from the antiaircraft guns camouflaged by these haystacks. One pilot reported the Japanese positioning antiaircraft gunners in church bell towers as well. The Japanese would also camouflage their machine guns and other materials in hopes of catching the Allied pilots by surprise.

Parafrags fall on a train on Luzon

On the 10th, the 312th was out on one of these patrols, specifically bombing highways and railroads north of Manila. At one point, the 388th Squadron was flying near Gerona and picked out a train to attack. On the first pass, pilots had noticed huts and haystacks in the fields. The second time the A-20s appeared over the fields, the haystacks were gone and machine and antiaircraft guns had taken their place. The A-20 flown by 2/Lt. Wickcliff M. Waltmire got caught in the gunfire, crashed, and exploded, killing him and his gunner, Capt. Franklyn D. Rosenburg . Sadly, Waltmire had received a letter from his wife the previous day saying he was the father of a baby boy.
Waltmire’s A-20 was not the only one hit by the antiaircraft fire that day, though he and Rosenburg were the only ones killed. First Lieutenant Everett L. Almon’s A-20 was hit by flack that damaged the hydraulic system, leaving him unable to lower his landing gear. Almon was able to crash-land back at Tanauan without injuring himself or his gunner. The plane, on the other hand, was a total loss.

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While we love our hardbound and paperback books at IHRA, we’re well aware of the increase in digital publishing. We decided to give it a shot by converting our most recent book, Rampage of the Roarin’ 20′s, into an ebook. You can purchase it now for $29.95 ($45 off the hardbound book price) at My Tablet Books.

Back in April 1942, the Japanese landed at Babo, in what was then the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), on the southern section of the McCluer Gulf. At the time, Babo’s airfield had a single runway, which had previously been used by the Dutch airline KLM. The Japanese built a second runway and Babo became a stronghold for its army and navy missions on the Vogelkop Peninsula—the west end of the island of New Guinea. After Japanese planes from Babo attacked an American amphibious landing at Biak in May 1944, Gen. Kenney hoped to get rid of the nuisance once and for all. With the 388th and 389th Squadrons recently having moved westward to Hollandia, Babo was in range of their low-level bombers. Even so, there were approximately 50 antiaircraft positions on the base, which would present quite a challenge to the squadrons.

Two dozen A-20s were led to Babo by the 312th’s C.O., Col. Strauss, on July 9, 1944. They flew along the Kasira River, six abreast, and were met with what was later described by Sgt. Charles H. Fessler as a “wall of fire” consisting of antiaircraft, machine gun, and possibly mortar fire. While the antiaircraft fire was intense, it was not well aimed, and probably hadn’t been set for enemy aircraft coming in at a low altitude. Col. Strauss’ plane, OLD S, still ended up with damage from ground fire.

The 388th Squadron flew over Babo first. Lt. Wayne C. Hoblit in 2/Lt. Lowell H. Morrow’s A-20, MISCHIEVOUS MARY II, had promised Morrow he would bring the plane back in one piece. Hoblit and his gunner, Fessler, heard several dull, thunking noises against the plane, which then jerked down to the left. Morrow’s A-20 was returned to him with a hole in the starboard wing, several holes in the fuselage, and piece of flak six inches long that landed very close to Fessler’s right foot. The 388th got away with damage to four A-20s and successfully took out three machine gun positions, a radio tower (hit by the right wing of an A-20), blew up a fuel tank, and damaged two Japanese fighters on the ground.

After the 388th’s runs, the Japanese readjusted the aim of their antiaircraft guns and were unfortunately prepared for the second wave of A-20s belonging to the 389th Squadron. 1/Lt. Earl G. Hill’s aircraft received a direct hit over the target, erupted into a ball of flame, lost its right wing and plunged into Bentoni Bay, killing him and his gunner, Sgt. Ray Glacken. A second A-20 flown by 1/Lt. Walter H. Van was hit by ground fire. His A-20 crashed and exploded. He and his gunner, S/Sgt. Gilbert V. Cooper did not survive.

1/Lt. Kenneth I. Hedges is flying THE QUEEN OF SPADES. He lost both of his wingmen (Hill and Van) on this raid.

The Squadron lost a third plane that day when 1/Lt. Walter S. Sparks’ A-20 was hit in both engines, forcing him to land in Bentoni Bay. Just before the aircraft touched the water, Sparks released the canopy. The plane hit the water, throwing Sparks 50 feet away from his plane. It is unknown whether his safety belt and shoulder harness had come undone or if they even fit correctly in the first place. Both of Sparks arms were broken, leaving him unable to inflate his life jacket. He yelled to his gunner, Sgt. Howard F. Williams, for help. Williams was also injured and fought his way over to Sparks, but it was too late. Sparks slipped beneath the surface. Williams took off his life jacket and dove several times to retrieve Sparks, but could not find him. He was soon rescued by a Catalina and relieved to be away from the sharks circling nearby. Sparks’ body was never found.

From a military standpoint, the attack on Babo was successful. The two squadrons severely damaged the airdrome and dispersal areas, started several fires, hit two fighters on the ground, and destroyed a radio tower, machine gun positions and a fuel tank. The raid also cost the Group five men and three aircraft, which were the heaviest losses to enemy fire at that time. “…however lucrative a target it might be, [Babo] was not yet a suitable target for two squadrons of A-20’s,” observed 312th historian Lt. Nathaniel Rothstein.

This painting portrays two aircraft from the 386th Bomb Squadron, 312th Bomb Group, during a highly successful attack by 75 A-20s on the Boela oil fields on the northeast coast of the island of Ceram, Netherlands East Indies, on July 14, 1944. The aircraft visible on this image is GLORIA C II, A-20G-25 #43-9114, the Havoc of 1/Lt. Paul F. Teague. On the left, his wingman, 1/Lt. Edgar A. Hambleton, can be seen in his aircraft JE REVIENS, A-20G-30 #43-9458. They are bombing and strafing their way across the target with exploding oil tanks and installations below, and offshore oil derricks and pumps visible in the background. This artwork is published on the cover of our book Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s and can be purchased on our website as a giclee or canvas print.

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. You can also purchase this piece through our website.

Also, don’t forget to check out our new ebook, Stories from Fifth Air Force, on Amazon!

From Ken’s Men to the Air Apaches, units of Fifth Air Force had thought of a wide variety of nicknames for themselves. This week, we thought we’d cover the origins of the sobriquets for the 312th, 22nd, 43rd, 38th and 345th Bomb Groups.

The Roarin’ 20’s: The 312th Bomb Group gave themselves this nickname in late March or early April 1944. For the most part, their insignia of a lion jumping through the zero in 20’s wasn’t added as nose art. The men usually used their group logo for signage and patches.

Ken’s Men: Over their years of service during WWII, the 43rd Bomb Group looked up to three men in particular: Gen. George C. Kenney, Brig. Gen. Kenneth Walker and Maj. Kenneth McCullar. Walker and McCullar were killed in action, but the stories of their leadership stuck with the Group for the rest of their war. To honor them as well as Kenney, they adopted the nickname of Ken’s Men sometime in 1943. The noses of the Group’s B-24s were adorned with Ken’s Men in big block letters.

The Red Raiders: In March 1944, the 22nd Bomb Group began transitioning to the B-24 Liberator. Along with this transition, they moved to Nadzab and soon thereafter decided to name their unit after their redheaded Group Commander, Lt. Col. Richard W. “Robbie” Robinson. The Group also adopted an insignia consisting of a bust of Viking warrior Erik the Red. As with the 43rd, the men of the 22nd also painted their logo on their B-24s.

The Sun Setters: Japan, also known as the Land of the Rising Sun, invaded many countries in the Pacific during WWII. In response, the 38th Bomb Group nicknamed themselves the Sun Setters as they flew missions to keep the Japanese at bay. Between 1941 and 1946, their logo consisted of an eagle sitting on the Japanese Rising Sun symbol, with four bombs converging over the sun. As far as we can tell, there doesn’t seem to be a clear date regarding the adoption of this sobriquet. Similar to the 312th, the men of the 38th Bomb Group didn’t usually add the group logo to their B-25s. The photo below shows one plane that did.

The Air Apaches: The 345th Bomb Group moved to Biak in early July 1944. A few weeks before their move, they had been debating on a new nickname for the Group after the “T.T.T.’s” didn’t hold much interest. Major John “Cliff” Hanna suggested the “Air Apaches” and the men quickly warmed up to it. They organized a contest to design an insignia, which was won by a Native American member of the unit, Sgt. Charles Pushetonequa of the 498th Squadron. His winning entry showed the head of a Native American dressed in a full war bonnet. Men added the logo to their B-25s tails.

Nine planes took off for Utarom, a Japanese air base on the west coast of Dutch New Guinea, on the morning of September 28, 1944. The mission was soon cancelled due to bad weather over their target and the A-20 crews headed back to base. Shortly into the return journey, 2/Lt. Kenneth S. DuFour lost oil pressure in one engine of his plane. He shut it down, jettisoned his bombs and told his gunner, S/Sgt. Thomas E. Smith, to bail out if the other engine quit. For the time being, things were stable, and DuFour continued flying back to Hollandia. Above him, 2/Lt. Walter F. Hill kept a watchful eye on DuFour’s A-20.

As DuFour approached Tanahmerah Bay, he followed the common landing procedure of switching from the bomb bay tanks to the wing tanks, only to have vapor lock shut down the remaining working engine. His A-20 went into a spiral dive and DuFour worked furiously to regain control of his plane by easing off the rudder trim and switching on the booster pumps. The engine restarted and the pilot got his plane back in control. For a short time, Hill thought DuFour’s A-20 would plunge into the water and was relieved after he pulled out of the dive. During the chaos, Smith bailed out with Hill watching him float towards the cliffs on the west side of the bay.

DuFour slowly took his aircraft up to 3000 feet in order to clear the mountains that stood between him and Hollandia. When he could not contact the tower, he decided to land on a dirt strip next to the runway. As he attempted to lower his landing gear, only the nose wheel came down. DuFour aborted the landing, determining that he would be better off ditching in nearby Sentani Lake. The descent to the lake was too difficult to control, leading the A-20 to crash into nearby trees instead. During the landing, the pilot was knocked unconscious.

When he woke up, he was surrounded by fuel and fire. DuFour attempted to escape the inferno through the canopy, but it wouldn’t open. Instead, he used a pistol to break the Plexiglas and climbed out of the plane. Soon after getting out, he heard the ammunition exploding. This worried the pilot, as he was unaware that his gunner had bailed out and thought Smith was still trapped.

Meanwhile, Hill landed at Hollandia and headed for a PT boat where he and others would search for Smith. A member of the 25th Liaison Squadron, T/Sgt. James D. Nichols, would help him with the search from the air. As they began looking, they saw a native canoe with Smith sitting in it. Other than minor cuts and bruises, he was uninjured after landing at Cape Korongwabb.

Back in the jungle, DuFour was certain that he landed near Hollandia and walked back in the direction of the base, which happened to be five miles away. After a six hour walk that included several stream crossings, the pilot heard an engine and began walking towards the sound for about 25 yards before he emerged from the jungle surrounding the base. DuFour walked into the closest tent, waking the occupant from a sound slumber.

The soldier drove the pilot to the hospital where he was treated for first, second and third degree burns over 30% of his body. All of his hair and part of his ears were burned off, as well as half the skin on his forehead. His hands and arms were also badly burned. At the hospital, skin grafts failed and he was transferred to the plastic surgery center at Northington Hospital in Alabama, where he stayed for six months. Once he recovered, he returned to flying status near the end of the war.

This story can be found in Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.

This post will probably look familiar to longtime readers.

Men from the 500th Bomb Squadron, 345th Bomb Group enjoy a turkey dinner on December 25, 1944 at Dulag.

For the men of Fifth Air Force, Christmas was not necessarily a time to take the day off to celebrate the holiday. There were still missions to be flown as the Allies tried to take back the Pacific from the Japanese. Some of these missions, like those of the 386th Squadron (312th Bomb Group) in 1943 were patrol missions. While the 386th was on patrol that year, the 345th, 43rd and 38th Bomb Groups were participating in a major raid on Cape Gloucester.

Three days before bombing Cape Gloucester on the 25th, a 345th B-25, THUMPER, was shot down on a mission over Wewak. The plane crash landed 12 miles from Dumpu, with the crew coming out of the crash uninjured. For five days, the crew trekked along the Ramu River, with a batch of P-40s spotting the men on Christmas Eve. The next day, the crew was seen by a Stinson L-5. The crew aboard the plane dropped supplies for the THUMPER crew. Later that afternoon, the crew received more supplies including ten pounds of turkey and a few other treats for Christmas. They were rescued the following day.

Whether or not any particular group was on a mission varied by year. No matter what, there were always a few hours set aside to enjoy a turkey or ham dinner, attend mass, and enjoy some music. Even though the men were so far away from home during the holidays, they always made the best of the situation.

First Lieutenant Claud C. Haisley named his P-40N SWEET WILLUMS after his wife, Margaret. A color photo of this artwork enlarged from an 8mm movie film can be found on page 194 of this book. The A-20G that he received at Port Moresby in February 1944, became SWEET WILLUMS II. Haisley flew the aircraft until his departure for the States in January 1945. By the end of his tour, he had 56 missions in this aircraft. Although there was not a specific gunner that always served on the crew with Haisley, Sgt. Albert V. Hanson often served in this capacity. Sgt. Edwin W. Peterson, was the crew chief assigned to the plane.

SWEET WILLUMS II almost met with disaster as Haisley was returning in it from Dagua Airdrome, New Guinea, on May 14, 1944. He had felt sick that morning, but he still decided to fly the mission with his Squadron. Their target was the antiaircraft guns at Dagua, a 90-minute flight. On the return flight, Haisley became quite ill, and struggled to bring the plane back to the base at Gusap. Shortly after touchdown, Haisley passed out in the cockpit, and then he spent ten days in the hospital being treated for malaria.

Capt. Claud C. Haisley flew 56 missions in SWEET WILLUMS II. He named the aircraft after his wife, Margaret. On January 31, 1945, 2/Lt. Donald J. Livengood, the aircraftʼs next pilot, was practicing strafing near Ellmore Airdrome on Mindoro Island in the Philippines. When engine failure forced him to ditch in the ocean, he and his gunner, Sgt. Morris B. Wilson escaped without injuries. (W. Stuart Fudge Collection)

Except for the occasional bullet hole, SWEET WILLUMS II experienced only minor combat damage during its career. In January 1945, 2/Lt. Donald J. Livengood took over SWEET WILLUMS II, and on the last day of the month one of the engines failed as he practiced strafing near Ellmore Airdrome on Mindoro Island in the Philippines. Livengood ditched in the ocean, and he and his gunner, Sgt. Morris B. Wilson, were rescued from the water uninjured.

The profile painting shows the aircraft as it appeared in January 1945. Sgt. Edwin W. Peterson, the crew chief used the butter-substitute in the field rations to wax the plane which he believed marginally increased the speed. Other crew chiefs also sometimes did this. Otherwise, the appearance of the unit markings on this A-20 were standard, including the tail letter “L,” but there was no skull and crossbones on the nose. “Mary” appeared on the port outboard engine cowling, probably a wife or girlfriend, or the name of one of the children, of someone on the ground crew. The plane carried a standard white crew ID panel under the cockpit, with lettering in a flowery style: Pilot – Lt. C.C. Haisley, followed by c/c – S/Sgt. Peterson. The mission scoreboard was somewhat unusual as the black bomb-style mission markers were painted on a white background. These consisted of two rows of 35 each, followed by two more rows of 20 each, giving a total of 110 missions displayed. No details of specific missions are known for this aircraft.

This aircraft profile comes from Rampage of the Roarin’ 20’s.