Pete
And from Commander Waldron:
Dear Adelaide,
There is not a bit of news that I can tell you now except that I am well. I have yours and the children’s pictures here with me all the time, and I think of you all most of the time. I believe that we will be in battle very soon. I wish we were there today. But, as we are up to the very eve of serious business, I wish to record to you that I am feeling fine. My own morale is excellent and from my continued observation of the squadron, their morale is excellent also. You may rest assured that I will go in with the expectation of coming back in good shape. If I do not come back, well, you and the little girls can know that this squadron struck for the highest objective in naval warfare—to sink the enemy. I hope this letter will not scare you and, of course, if I have a chance to write another to be mailed at the same time as this, then I shall do so. I love you and the children very dearly and I long to be with you. But I could not be happy ashore at this time. My place is here with the fight. I could not be happy otherwise. I know you wish me luck and I believe I will have it. You know, Adelaide, in this business of the torpedo attack, I acknowledge we must have a break. I believe that I have the experience and enough Sioux in me to profit by and recognize the break when it comes, and it will come. I dislike having the censors read a letter from me such as this, however, at this time I felt I must record these thoughts. God bless you, dear. You are a wonderful wife and mother. Kiss and love the little girls for me and be of good cheer.
Love to all from
Daddy and Johnny
At 01:11 a message was flashed to Hornet telling of the attack by four U.S. Navy PBY Catalina patrol bombers on enemy ships to the southwest of Midway. A little over two hours later “general quarters” was sounded on the Hornet and the pilots of Torpedo Eight again assembled in their ready room, but it was a case of “hurry up and wait.” The teleprinter was silent and the airmen reclined in their big leather chairs, some of them dozing off. The delay was due to Admiral Marc Mitscher and the Hornet skipper, Captain Mason, being uncertain of the Japanese fleet’s exact position. Without that intelligence, they could not know if the U.S. carriers would be positioned close enough to the enemy ships for the American pilots to operate with a safe fuel margin. Secure from general quarters at 0600 Midway time, the Torpedo Eight pilots adjourned to the wardroom for breakfast. Just as they finished the meal, general quarters was sounded again, followed by “All pilots report to your ready rooms.” Arriving at theirs, the torpedo plane pilots found the message: MIDWAY BEING ATTACKED BY JAPANESE AIRCRAFT.
Ensign George Gay, a TBD-1 Devastator pilot of Torpedo Eight recalled: “There was a real commotion as we hauled our plotting boards, helmets and goggles, gloves, pistols, hunting knives, and all our other gear. We took down the flight information.
“We had only six of our planes on the flight deck as there was no more room. And since we were to be alone anyhow, we were the last to be launched. The skipper had tried in vain to get us fighter protection. He even tried to get one fighter to go with us, or even to get one fighter plane and one of us would fly it even though we had never been up in one, but he could not swing it. The group commander and the captain felt that the SBDs needed more assistance than we did. They had caught hell in the Coral Sea and the torpedo planes had been lucky. However, the torpedo planes had made the hits in the Coral Sea, so the Japs were going to be looking for us.
Eager young American sailors in their Second World War adventure.
“The TBD could not climb anywhere near as high as the dive-bombers needed to go, and the group commander and the fighter boys did not want us at two levels up there.
“Under these conditions, Commander Waldron reasoned, our best bet was to be right on the water so the Zeros could not get under us. Since it was obvious that we would be late getting away with nine of our planes still to be brought up from the hangar deck for launching, the problem would be overtaking to form a coordinated attack.
“As I went up to the flight deck, I suddenly ducked into a first aid station and got a tourniquet and put it in my pocket. When I got to the edge of the island. I met the skipper coming down from the bridge. ‘I’m glad I caught you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to convince them that the Japs will not be going toward Midway—especially if they find out we are here. The group commander is going to take the whole bunch down there. I’m going more to the north and maybe by the time they come north and find them, we can catch up and all go in together. Don’t think I’m lost. Just track me so if anything happens to me, the boys can count on you to bring them back.’
“Each of us would be tracking, and the others all knew how to do it, but it would be my job since I was Navigation Officer. That is also the reason why I was the last man in the formation. It gave me more room to navigate instead of flying formation so closely.
“At a little before 0900, the planes started taking off, and it was 0915 when the signal man motioned me forward to the take-off position. He only had me move forward enough to that I could unfold my wings, and so I began my take-off with the tail of my plane sitting on the No. 3 elevator. I had more than enough room on the deck in front of me to take off, and I noticed as I came by the ship that the planes that were to follow me were being moved further up the deck with the hope of being able to bring the rest of the torpedo planes of Squadron 8 up the elevator from the hangar deck so they could get in take-off position.
Alex Vraciu became the fourth highest-scoring U.S. Navy fighter ace of World War Two.
“The rest of Torpedo Eight got off after what seemed an eternity. Then we all joined up and headed away from our fleet. After an uneasy and uneventful hour, the skipper’s voice broke radio silence. ‘There’s a fighter on our tail.’ What he saw proved to be a Jap scout plane flying at about 1,000 feet. It flew on past us, but I knew—and I’m sure the others did—that he had seen us and reported to the Japanese Navy that there were carrier planes approaching.
“We had been flying long enough now to find something, and I could almost see the wheels going around in Waldron’s head. He did exactly what I had expected. He put the first section into a scouting line. Each of the eight planes was to move out into a line even with the skipper’s wingtips. We had never done this before, only talked about it and, in spite of the warnings and dire threats, the fellows got too much distance between the planes. I knew immediately that this was wrong, as the planes on each end were nearly out of sight. The basic idea is OK, so that you can scan more ocean, but this was ridiculous.
“The skipper was upset, and he gave the join-up signal forcefully. We had just gotten together when smoke columns appeared on the horizon. In less time than it takes to tell, it became obvious that the old Indian had taken us as straight to the Japs as we could fly.
“The first capital ship I recognized as a carrier, the Soryu. Then I could make out the Kaga and the Akagi. There was another carrier further on screening ships all over the ocean. The smoke was from what looked like a battleship, and the carriers were landing planes. The small carrier off on the horizon had smoke coming out of her also. My first thought was, ‘Oh, Christ! We’re late!’
“The skipper gave the signal to spread out to bracket the biggest carrier for an attack, and that was when the Zeros swarmed all over us.
“Since we had flown straight to the enemy fleet, while everyone else was off looking for them, there was no one else for their air cover to worry about.
“Seeing immediately that the Zeros had us cold, the skipper signalled for us to join back together for mutual protection. We had not moved far apart, so we were back together almost immediately. The skipper broke radio silence again. ‘We will go in. We won’t turn back. Former strategy cannot be used. We will attack. Good luck.’
“I have never questioned the skipper’s judgement or decisions. As it turned out, it didn’t make any difference anyhow. We had run into a virtual trap, but we still had to do something to disrupt their landing planes, so he to
ok us right in. We had calculated our fuel to be very short, even insufficient to get us back to Hornet, but this was not considered suicidal by any of us. We thought we had a fighting chance, and maybe after we dropped our fish we could make it to Midway. Things then started happening really fast.
“I cannot tell you the sequence in which the planes went down. Everything was happening at once, but I was consciously seeing it all. At least one plane blew up, and each would hit the water and seem to disappear,
“Zeros were coming in from all angles and from both sides at once. They would come in from abeam, pass each other just over our heads and turn around to make another attack. It was evident that they were trying to get our lead planes first. The planes of Torpedo Eight were falling at irregular intervals. Some were on fire and some did a half-roll and crashed on their backs, completely out of control. Machine-gun bullets ripped my armor plate a number of times. As they rose above it, the bullets would go over my shoulder into the instrument panel and through the windshield.
“Waldron was shot down very early. His plane burst into flames, and I saw him stand up to get out of the fire. He put his right leg outside the cockpit, and then hit the water and disappeared. His radioman, Dobbs, didn’t have a chance. Good old Dobbs. When we had been leaving Pearl Harbor, Dobbs had orders back to the States to teach radio. But he had chosen to delay that assignment and stay with us.
“Much too early, it seemed, Bob Huntington, my radioman / gunner, said, ‘They got me!’ ‘Are you hurt bad,’ I asked. I looked back and Bob was slumped down almost out of sight. ‘Can you move?’ I asked. He said no more.
“It was while I was looking back at Bob that the plane to my left must have been shot down, because when I looked forward again it was not there. I think that was the only plane I did not actually see get hit.
“We were right on the water at full throttle and wide open which was about 180 knots. Anyone slamming into the sea had no chance of survival—at that speed the water is just like cement. That is why I was so sure that they were all dead.
“It’s hard to explain, but I think Bob being put out of action so soon was one of the things that saved me. I no longer had to fly straight and level for him to shoot, so I started dodging. I even pulled up a few times, and took some shots at Zeros as they would go by. I am positive I hit one, knocking Plexiglas out of his canopy. I may have scared him, but I certainly did not hurt him personally, or even damage his plane much.
“The armor plate bucket seat was another thing that worked well for me. I could feel as well as hear and sometimes see, those tracer bullets. They would clunk into the airplane or clank against th armored seat, and I had to exercise considerable control over when to kick the rudder.
“About this time I felt something hit my left arm and felt it to see what it was. There was a hole in my sleeve and I got blood on my hand. I felt closer, and there was a lump under the skin of my arm. I squeezed the lump, just as you would pop a pimple, and a bullet popped out. I remember thinking, ‘Well, what do you know—a souvenir.’ So I put the bullet in my mouth, blood and all, thinking, ‘What the hell—it’s my blood.’
“We were now in a position, those of us still left, to turn west again to intercept the ship we had chosen to attack, but the Zeros were still intent on not letting us through, and our planes kept falling all around me. We were on the ship’s starboard side, or to the right and ahead of our target, and as we closed range the big carrier began to turn toward us. I knew immediately from what the skipper had said so often in his lectures that if she got into a good turn she could not straighten out right away, and I was glad that she had committed herself. At that moment there were only two planes left of our squadron besides my own. One was almost directly ahead of me, but off a bit to my left. I skidded to the left and avoided more 20mm slugs just in time to pull my nose up and fire at another Zero as he got in front of me. I only had one .30 caliber gun, and although I knew I hit this Zero also, it did little damage. When I turned back to the right, the plane that had been directly ahead of me was gone, and the other one was out of control.
“My target, which I think was the Kaga, was now in a hard turn to starboard and I was going toward her forward port quarter. I figured that by the time a torpedo could travel the distance it should be in the water, the ship would be broadside. I aimed about one-quarter of the ship’s length ahead of her bow, and reached out with my left hand to pull back the throttle. It had been calculated that we should be at about eighty knots when we dropped these things, so I had to slow down.
“I had just got hold of the throttle, when something hit the back of my hand and it hurt like hell. My hand didn’t seem to be working right, so I had to pull the throttle back mostly with my thumb. You can well imagine that I was not being exactly neat about all this. I was simply trying to do what I had come out to do. When I figured that I had things about as good as I was going to get them, I punched the torpedo release button.
“Nothing happened. ‘Damn those tracers,’ I thought. They’ve goofed up my electrical release and I’m getting inside my range. I had been told that the ideal drop was 1,000 yards range, eighty knots speed, and eighty feet or so of altitude. But by the time I got the control stick between my knees and put my left hand on top of it to fly the plane, and reached across to pull the cable release with my good right hand, I was into about 850 yards. The cable, or mechanical release, came out of the instrument panel on the left side, designed to be pulled with the left hand. But those damn Zeros had messed up my program. My left hand did not work. It was awkward, and I almost lost control of the plane trying to pull out that cable by the roots. I can’t honestly say I got rid of that torpedo. It felt like it. I had never done it before so I couldn’t be sure, and with the plane pitching like a bronco, I had to be content with trying my best.
Crash on deck! Chewed up wooden planking surrounds this Grumman Avenger torpedo bomber as its landing goes awry aboard the carrier USS Philippine Sea.
Making his post-mission strike report, Lt. JG Bill Adams aboard the USS Lexington in April 1944;
“God but that ship looked big! I remember thinking, ‘Why in the hell doesn’t the Hornet look that big when I’m trying to land on her?’
“I remember that I did not want to fly out over the starboard side and let all those gunners have a chance at me, so I headed out over the stern.
“I thought, ‘I could crash into all this and make one great big mess, maybe even get myself a whole carrier, but I’m feeling passably good, and my plane is still flying, so the hell with that—I’ll keep going. Maybe I’ll get another crack at them and do more damage in the long run.’
“Flying as low as I could, I went between a couple of cruisers and out past the destroyers. If you’ve ever seen movies of this sort of thing, you may wonder how anything could get through all of that gunfire. I am alive to tell you that it can be done. I think my plane was hit a few times …
“The Zeros had broken off me when I got into ack-ack, but they had no trouble going around to meet me on the other side. A 20mm cannon slug hit my left rudder pedal just outside my little toe, blew the pedal apart and knocked a hole in the firewall. This set the engine on fire, and it was burning my left leg through that hole.
“When the rudder pedal went, the control wire to the ailerons and the rudder went with it. I still had the elevators, so I could pull the nose up. Reaching over with my right hand, I cut the switch. That was also on the left side. I was able to hold the nose up and slow down to almost a decent ditching speed.
“Most airplanes will level out if you turn them loose, especially if they are properly trimmed. Mine was almost making it, but I was crosswind, so the right wing hit first. This slammed me into the water in a cartwheel fashion and banged the hood shut over me before it twisted the frame and jammed the hood tight.
“As I unbuckled, water was rising to my waist. The nose of the plane was down, so I turned around and sat on the instrument panel while trying to get that hood
open. It wouldn’t budge. When that water got up to my armpits and started lapping at my chin, I got scared—and I mean really scared. I knew the plane would dive as soon as it lost buoyancy and I didn’t want to drown in there. I panicked, stood up and busted my way out.
“The Zeros were diving and shooting at me, but my first thought now was of Bob Huntington in the back seat. I was almost positive he was dead. I think he took at least one of those cannon slugs in the chest, but I thought that the water might revive him and I had to try and help him. I got back to him just as the plane took that dive, and I went down with it, trying to unbuckle his straps and get him out.
“The beautiful water exploded into a deep red and I lost sight of everything. What I had seen confirmed my opinion of his condition and I had to let Bob go. The tail took a gentle swipe at me as if to say goodbye, and I came up choking. I lost the bullet from my mouth and as I watched it sink in that blue, clear water, I grabbed for it but missed. Zeros were still strafing me and I ducked under a couple of times as those thwacking slugs came close. As I came up for air once, I bumped my head on my life raft out of the plane.”
George Gay was the only member of Torpedo Eight to survive their attack that day. With his wits and luck, he evaded capture by the ships of the enemy fleet that drove past him as he floated near them, his head covered by a thin black seat cushion that had emerged from his sinking plane, along with a four-man life raft. That entire afternoon, in the presence of the Japanese warships, he “rode” that uninflated raft like a horse, concealing it and himself from his foes, having to wait until nightfall to inflate it. From his vantage point, he watched the destruction of three great carriers of the enemy fleet by the dive-bombers of Hornet and other U.S. flattops. After about thirty hours in the water, Gay was saved when he was sighted by a PBY crew who landed nearby to pick him up. He was flown to Midway and later to Pearl Harbor where a doctor examined him and noted that the ensign had lost roughly a pound an hour in body weight during his time in the sea. While recovering, George was visited in his hospital room by Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet. The admiral had a more than casual interest in the ensign’s account of what he had observed in the course of his amazing adventure. Gay later received the Navy Cross and the Purple Heart.
The Bird Farm Page 8