P-47 'Razorback' Thunderbolts of the U.S. Ninth Air Force make their escape following an attack on installations near the port of Le Havre, France, 1944.
I waved them off to indicate that I couldn't understand Japanese upon which, one of the officers pulled ut a well-worn litle pocket Japanese-English dictionary. Using the book I got across that one of the 38s was out of gas and that we had a bomber coming in to assist us -- my sign language must have been comical. I was pointing to words in the dictionary, flapping my arms to indicate wings, pointing to the south, holding up four fingers to indicate the number of engines on the bomber -- it was a gas! When one of the officers finally nodded that he understood, he barked an order at the soldiers who raced off to return in about 15 minutes with a fuel truck and pulled up in front of Hall's 38. I went over to check it out and was overcome with an odor of something that you more elderly types may remember from the auto race days back at the county fairs -- castor oil. Their fuel was doped with castor oil for lubrication! The officers were crestfallen that their fuel wasn't good enough for the 38 and about then the RB-17 landed and taxied up in front of the 38s.
By this time we had gathered a crowd of civilians and other military who swarmed around the RB-17 pointing to the gun turrets and four engines, obviously awed by this tremendous machine. A Shinto priest rode up on a bicycle wearing his flowing black robes and his black fly-swatter hat, got off and came over to bless our a/c -- at least that is what I took his motions to be. He then got back on his bicycle and rode off. Next came the local town Mayor wearing a long-tailed morning outfit complete with striped pants, gray spats and wearing his black top hat. He bowed so many times that I couldn't keep up with him. In fact, I think that we must have been bowed to by half the population of Nittagahara. Meantime, the RB-17 crew broke out all of their emergency rations and gave the candy to all of the children who had shown up. The Japanese parents reciprocated with their home-made candy and it was local fair time.
507th Fighter Squadron
When I, through the little dictionary, asked the Japanese officer if they had any way to transfer fuel from the 17 to the 38 he sent his soldiers off again to return shortly with a hand-operated wobble pump with long hoses and they transferred gas from the 17 to the 38 under the supervision of the 17 crew chief. Just as they were completing the fuel transfer we heard the sound of fighters and looked up to see P-51s in a long shallow dive toward the field, pull up, make a circle and leave the area. The 17 radio operator, who had been standing by on the RB's radio stuck his head out of the pilots window and told us that he had been monitoring the fighter frequency and heard a 35th Ftr Gp P-51 patrol leader tell his squadron that the Japanese had captured some U.S. a/c and he was going down to strafe them so that they couldn't be used as Kamikazes! Thank goodness for that alert radio operator who told him what was happening on the ground. In that case, it turned out that we had been in more danger from our own forces than from the Japanese.
Just before the 17 loaded up to depart, I pointed to the sword of one of the officers who didn't understand my meaning at first, but finally, after a couple of suggestive hunches of my shoulder holster, handed me his sword. I just wanted a souvenir. No thought of taking the surrender of Japan. I handed the sword to one of the 17 crew who quietly returned it after we were back on Oki. I never reported the sword because of the orders at that time to turn in all souvenirs which would be returned after the war. HA!! I still haven't received my German pistol that I turned in when I left the ETO in late '44. Anyhow, the 17 departed and I sent Hall off to circle the field while I started up.
I decided to give the Japanese a show of what a 38 flown by an American fighter pilot could do on takeoff. I planned to hold the bird down, suck up the gear before lifting the nosewheel and then do an Immelman off the deck -- a maneuver that I had performed before. Getting into my 38 I did so in the approved hot rock manner by vaulting up on the horizontal stabilizer and running up one boom to drop in to the cockpit. The 38 had a ladder that dropped down from the tail of the pod but it was hard to retract from the wing and, if left down, made a very noisy vibrating racket in flight. After firing up both engines I held the brakes until the tires started to slip and roared down the runway. As I picked up speed the top of the canopy flew off and I had to screech to a stop with smoking tires. I had failed to lock the canopy. The 38 cockpit had two side windows which cranked up an down like an automobile and the top of the canopy was framed plexi hinged at the rear and held down by two latches at the front of the canopy bow. I had really failed to latch the canopy! I couldn't believe it! Turning around at the end of asphalt I started to taxi back to the pad at the east end. There in front of me was a scene that I would love to have had a movie of. The Mayor, with tails streaming out behind him and with one hand holding his top hat on, was running towards me with my canopy top in his other hand!
I sedately taxied back, shut down and, retrieving the canopy from the bowing Mayor, managed to wedge it back on by bending the broken hinges and locked it from the outside. All of this time acting as though this was a common occurrence on 38s. After making certain that the canopy top would stay on in flight, my next problem was getting in the cockpit. With the canopy top locked and the side windows down there is about 12 to 14 inches of vertical opening as I recall -- might be more or less. I finally got into the cockpit by getting prone on the wing, crawling through the cockpit opening until my head and shoulders were out the other side, drawing my feet in and then worming my way back into the cockpit and harnessing up.
Hardly a graceful exit for the conquering hero. I started up again, cranked up the windows and with the villagers bowing steadily, and probably wondering what was going to happen next, I quietly took off, picked up Hall and proceeded back to base on Oki.
The next day I was ordered down to 5th AF Hqs to be interviewed by the Press. When I took the podium in the press tent before the top brass of all the correspondents gathered to cover the landing of MacArthur, I started off by saying that there was nothing to write about as it was a routine fighter mission with no highlights that made it newsworthy. I was promptly put in my place by being informed that my business was to fly airplanes and it was their business to decide what was newsworthy. The interview continued.
In more recent years, reading Japanese WWII history, I have learned that on many bases in southern Japan, there were military fanatics who, for several weeks after the Armistice, swore to kill any Americans who set foot on Japanese soil! There again that great skill and cunning got me down on a safe strip -- no luck involved at all!
What happened to F/O Hall? He was transferred to Hqs, 5th AF as assistant mess officer and returned to the ZI shortly after arriving in Japan. He is now an ordained minister somewhere in New England..
End of another too long story.
Clay
Additional Sources:
www.web-birds.com
home.att.net/~historyzone
www.flyingknights.net
www.brooksart.com
p-38online.com
