©2009 Steeljaw Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

Sat with him for the brief and come back next recovery to find he was no more.

That was the first of what became a long line of memorials in the foc’sl or on the flightdeck.  Not long thereafter, during a Mediterranean deployment our COD was lost with all hands when it flew into a mountainside in IMC weather in the east Med.   Great tragedy that was with departed pax heading home to shore duty after surviving the bulk of the deployment.  However, it wasn’t until another ship, another squadron and air wing some years later that that procession grew especially long and underscored the violent nature of our business and the frailty of our existence.  It began with an overdue S-3 that never returned from a night mission, a Marine A-6 lost a couple of days later when it flew into the sea checking out potential wreckage, another A-6 (same squadron) lost with both pilot and B/N  later in deployment on a Case III recovery or my roommate who was for all intents and purposes dead (later revived but permanently incapacitated) in an auto accident while returning from pre-exercise planning in England.  We also lost an F-14 but regained the crew and the Whale det that was deployed the first half of our deployment would be the one that had the barrier crash on Nimitz  with loss of all onboard later.  In each case, the naval services (for we had Marines deployed with us on those several occasions) brought forth the best of their sea-going traditions.

For it’s like this — we all work in one persuasion or another. And we each honor and appreciate one another’s company and efforts to varying degrees.

But when you go to sea, there is a special bond that is developed through shared adversity and an understanding of the importance of the ship you share versus the timeworn elements of the sea.  So, when a shipmate passes, one desires to honor them in a special way.

And when it is a CMC, in this case, CVW-7’s CMC  , it is especially noteworthy:

From fellow CPOs:

From the embarked airwing and ship's company:

To ships in the battlegroup:

Battlegroup Flag to Seaman Deuce; Brownshoe, Blackshoe -- Officer, Chief, Sailor - Everyone pausing in their comings and goings to give their due to a departed shipmate:

...and that, shipmates, is respect.

Rest easy Master Chief - rest in peace. Your shipmates have the watch.

(h/t to Byron’s CPO Son-in-Law & a former DDG/CG CO for the pics)

©2009 Steeljaw Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

” In every battle there is a moment when the combatants, and the world, seem to catch their breath. It is a fleeting moment, lost in the blink of an eye. But in that same blink, everything changes. Such moments are borne of desperation, of courage, of plain dumb luck. But they are pivotal – for what was before is forever changed afterwards. Until 1019 on the morning of 4/5 June 1942, things had gone badly for the US and its allies. With few exceptions, the Allies were fighting a losing battle in the Pacific. Indeed, as events unfolded that morning, it appeared as of the rout was on. The attacks by land-based air forces from Midway had utterly failed culminating in the loss of many aircraft. The strikes by the torpedo aircraft were decimated – an entire squadron of TBDs shot down with only a sole survivor to claim witness. An entire airgroup missed the Japanese carriers and the battle altogether and of the remaining forces, they were scattered and disorganized. The future was looking grim. At 1019, Hiryu’s senior lookout shouted he had spotted dive bombers attacking Kaga from overhead. Despite being thrown into a hard turn, Kaga was struck by a 500 lb bomb and then successive strikes utterly crushed her…

At 1024 Soryu was struck a mighty series of blows…

At 1026, LT Dick Best led a flight of two other SBDs away from Kaga in an attack on Akagi. Attacking in a “V” formation from a right-hand turn, history held its breath as the first bomb missed and the third narrowly missed the carrier. But the second bomb, a 1,000 pounder from LT Best’s aircraft bore through the aft edge of the elevator and exploded in the upper reaches of the Akagi’s hangar bay, in the midst of the refueled/rearming aircraft parked there. In the blink of an eye, fate turned and three carriers lay burning.

To be sure the battle was not over and a dreadful price remained to be extracted from the American carriers. Likewise, Kido Butai had not seen the last of the Americans either and would pay the final price later in that day.

Across a seaborne canvass that stretched over 176,000 sq nm, larger than the country of Sweden, the battle see-sawed back and forth. No other naval engagement has seen such breath-taking distances involved and few, short of a Trafalgar, have seen such a decisive turn of events. We honor today those who fought and gave their all in this signatory battle.”

Across the expanses of the Pacific that now marked the final resting spot of four of the Combined Fleet’s carriers and another of the dwindling American fleet; across those waters whose perceived placidity formed the basis of its, by now, ironically given name, men on both sides gathered to ponder, to plan, to act.  On one side, it was a two pronged effort to hide the shame of the recent losses from the divine being occupying the throne while still trying to consolidate the spoils of what, six months previously, seemed to be an unstoppable force.  In the east, in the capitol of a nation roughly a century and a half removed from the shackles of an empire,  men, civilian and military paused in their brief celebration of the previous day’s events and turned over a question common in mind – ‘now what’?  The unexpected opportunity presented at Midway opened new avenues and forced thought about where emphasis should lie in the war effort.  Europe first?  That’s where the President’s heart lay and Churchill and Stalin were in desperate straits against the Nazi foe despite recent setbacks… Put the Pacific on ice now that Japan’s eastward and southern thrusts have been blunted?  Or take advantage of the change in strategic conditions?  Was it time to press Nimitz’s central Pacific strategy?  And what about MacArthur ?  Couldn’t keep him quiet in Australia forever.

In June 1942, a Japanese seaplane base commander was surveying the areas in a chain of volcanic- and coral-reef islands that stretched across the north-eastern approaches to Australia – the Solomon Islands.  While loitering about one, he noticed a wide, flat plain – perfect for constructing a long runway for land-based patrol bombers to extend their reach over land and sea.  And so, acting on his initiative, construction began on this heretofore, little noticed, overgrown outcropping of rock, stuck like an appendix to this chain of islands.

This rock named Guadalcanal.

In doing so, he touched off a series of events, of battles great and small, nation against nation, man against the elements – even man against himself that no one in those far-distant capitols had reckoned for.

Beginning here (and here  )  next week, we will bring you the story of the Solomons campaign.  A cast of writers have been assembled from a variety of communities  – some well known from their own blog efforts, some new to the blog ‘verse but well experienced in the ‘real world,’ others  you have only seen in the comments.  All will bring their knowledge and perspective to elements of the Campaign in the tradition established by the Countdown to Midway series.  In the process, while hoping to shed new light on a campaign that, with a few exceptions, has pretty much remained elusively darkened to most except for the dedicated naval and military historian, we also hope to highlight lessons for the current age – lessons form an operational, planning and leadership perspective.

For what is the good in studying history if we may not find the practical application in the present and for our future?

- SJS

©2009 Steeljaw Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

In the skies over Occupied Europe in 1943, life for the bomber crews of the 8th Air Force was always teetering on the edge – if the sub-zero temperatures and lack of oxygen at flight altitude didn’t numb and then silently kill you, then the murderous flak or ever present fighters with their 20mm cannon would  rip flesh and aluminum to shreds, blotting life out in a burst of obscene red, yellow and black.  Happiness was surviving 25 missions and being rotated out of theater, like the crew of the Memphis Bell.  Many were not so fortunate.  The slaughter, for what else could it be called when 30, 40, 60-plus aircraft and crew per mission were being lost, almost brought the daytime campaign to a stop .  Similar loss rates had plagued the British effort earlier and was the chief reason they had switched to a nght/area bombing campaign.  Nevertheless, the crews pressed on and the following year the appearance of a new long-range escort fighter, the P-51, enabled deeper penetration of the German fortress – all the way to the factories and cities in the heart of the Nazi territory, contributing in no small measure to the  eventual liberty of the occupied territories and even the Germans themselves, from the very kind of state-centered machine our forefathers had in mind as they penned those immortal words.

Presented here today then, is a glimpse into the life of one crew engaged in that fight.  Ut lego est scio quod agnosco…

– SJS

In 1943 the US found itself in that turbulent stage of transition where the war was no longer a matter of fighting defensive battles, but neither was offense reigning supreme.  On several fronts, despite some success, progress was haltingly tentative and the prospects of a reversal of fortune seemed to be permanent presence at the portal.  In the Pacific, following the decisive win at Midway the previous year, the Combined Fleet of the Japanese was still capable of landing seriously mortal blows as US forces discovered at Savo Island  and Santa Cruz.   In Africa, there was the debacle at Kasserine were poorly-led and ill-prepared US forces were ruthlessly routed and destroyed in the first major battle between US and German forces.  Meanwhile, in England, the first of the daylight raids supporting the American advocated doctrine of daylight precision bombing were taking flight over occupied territory in Europe, but it was still the RAF’s bomber command that was mustering the very large formations for nighttime strikes on the Nazi homeland using area bombing.

Back in the US, production lines had already shifted to an around-the-clock, 7-days a week cycle. Primary producers of high-demand items, like Boeing’s B-17, were starting to establish auxiliary production lines with former competitors and across boundaries with similar industries.  Thus Douglas, a fierce rival of Boeing’s in the transportation industry, was producing B-17’s and Ford automobile plants were being converted to produce Consolidated’s B-24 Liberator.   Meanwhile – pilots and crews were needed in volume to fly the planes and across the heartland of the US, reported in growing numbers to hastily built airfields in the (very) rural parts of the Midwest.  There, the signature three-runway airfields hosted primary training for new B-17 and B-24 crews.  Places like McCook Army Airfield, Scribner Army Airfield and Grand Island, all in Nebraska.  The drone of Wright 1820’s reverberated across the flat plains, day and night, through the spring with its sudden thunderstorms and the long, hazy days of summer.  And across the Atlantic, the numbers continued to build.

On an early September day in 1943, one B-17 lifted from the field at Grand Island, bound for stopping points in Maine, Goose Bay, Labrador;  Sonderstrom, Greenland;  and Keflavik, Iceland.  Waypoints enroute to its ultimate destination in the British Isles – RAF Great Ashfield, one of many places in the southeast corner of England that was seeing the descendants of the Mayflower return, en masse, for the coming aerial onslaught of Festung Europa.  Crewing the Fortress was the pilot, Robert “Tex” Taylor with Joel Punches as the plane’s navigator and chronicler.

The log that Lt Punches generated provides insight into the lives of the (very) young men that began to take the fight back to the Germans.  Its terse prose reflects the early sense of adventure and wonderment at things new:

“9-4-43: Took off from Grand Island, Nebraska for Maine.  Buzzed Soucek’s (ed: bombardier) house in Chicago.  Flew over Toronto, Canada, Lake Superior, Lake Michigan.  Landed at 1745.  Really cold.  Sure pretty country.  Lots of lakes, pine trees, etc.  Bangor, Maine.
“9-7-43: Took off downhill and with the wind for Iceland (ed: that’s the way it is at Sonderstrom   – you approach up the fjord, land upslope  and takeoff downslope.  – SJS).  Climbed over ice caps at 16,000 ft.  Bad Weather.  Snow, Rain, Hail.  Good sun shots and ETA okay. 5 miles left of course.  Northern lights really bright.  Polaris overhead.”
“ 9-8-43: Weathered in.  Raining.  Went to Reykjavik (40,000 pop)   People all pro-Nazi, unfriendly, backward.  Seems 30 years behind US in civilization.  Got 13 hours sleep, beard beginning to grow.”
“9-11-43: Stayed last night in old Scottish mansion, converted to officer’s quarters.  People friendly.  Their bitter beer tastes lousy.  Their ale is good.  Left on train for London – 400 miles.”

Of course there was more training to accomplish:

“9-16-43: Had 8 hrs. of lecture today.  How to escape from Germany & France, ditching procedures, etc. “
“9-17-43: 8 hrs. of class again.”
“9-19-43: Got to 385th OK and were assigned to 550th  squadron.  “The Red Squadron” Today a B-17 caught fire on the line & blew up with 600 lb. of bombs on and 23,000 gals of gas.  Blew the engines two blocks away.  Killed one fireman.  Went to 8 hrs. of class today.”

And the stark reality of war made plainly evident on a training mission:

“9-26-43: Today 3 squadrons went on a practice mission out over the North Sea.  We were in the 2nd squadron.  The lead navigator took us too far.  We ended up 20 miles from the Dutch coast – a practice mission nobody had any machine guns aboard.  Three M.E. 109’s attacked the rear squadron & shot down two of our B-17’s before anyone knew they were there.  The 17’s didn’t even have any guns.  One blew up in the air & we saw the other one ditch.  Someone ought to be court-martialed for not putting guns in the ship or taking us out there.  Two 17’s gone and not one bomb dropped.  Really a mess.  Had P-47 escorts too.  The Germans could have got all 50 17’s if they had known.”

Then the missions began:

“9-28-43: Mission #1.  Went to Rheims, France, 130 miles into France – an airfield.  P-47 protection all the way.  Complete undercast.  Couldn’t see the air field so didn’t drop bombs.  Flak on the way and 10 M.E. 110 who did not attack us on the way back.  Coming back over England a B-17 on our left got out of control and came up under another and its props cut its tail off completely – clean as a knife.  Tail went up and the rest of the plane went up, over, and down.  I watched it out our left window – 7000 ft and they didn’t have a chance.  The other plane’s wing came off and it spun down also.  Just like a moving picture!  10 mi east of London.  Just then our #2 engine caught fire & we came in on 3 engines.  Good landing, however.  24 to go!

“10-14-43: Mission #5.  Schweinfurt, Germany.  Ball bearing works.  How we ever got back from this one I still don’t understand!  Four hours over Germany and three hrs. under fighter attack.  Flak over target was like a cloud and very accurate. Exactly at our altitude.  We were hit three times.  Tail, wing, and glass nose broken.  Kick off was at 1030.  Left England at 1330.  P-47 escort 20 mi. inside Germany.  When they left, the 109’s started attacking and continued for four hrs.  We were “Tail End Charlie” today, in Purple Heart corner.  Carried incendiaries.  Clear over target and when we left it was a huge mass of flames.  The whole town was burning, flames 500 ft. high.  Two ‘17’s burst into flame in the group ahead of us on the bomb run.  5 min. after the target 3 bunches of parachutes opened.  About 7-8 in each bunch.  10 min. later a ’17 crashed and burned in a forest.  JU 88’s were sitting out and firing rockets at us.  They had everything up today, JU88’s, M.E. 109’s, 210’s 30 min. later a ’17 dropped down and two fighters went down after him.  20 min. later he came out of a cloud with his engines smoking.  They all bailed out.  Our No. 1 engine ignition system was shot out & it sounded like a washing machine.  I’m afraid things are going to be tough from now on, no more “milk” runs.

“10-20-43: Mission #7.  Duren Germany.  Someone was praying hard for us today.  Left England at 1230 – 28,000 feet – 44 degrees below zero.  Spit escort.  20 min. before the target our #4 engine ran away and we couldn’t feather it.  Couldn’t hold our altitude or stay in formation.  We dropped down and turned back.  3 min. later four M.E. 109’s picked us up.  We dove down to 12,000 feet trying to get away. The fighters came in at 5, 6, & 7 o’clock on our tail making several passes. Got in to all the clouds we could…couldn’t get much speed having only three engines & a head wind.  We finally hit the coast and 20 min. later hit the English coast.  Our tail gunner was wounded.  A 20mm hit the tail.  Bullets in his leg, buttocks, and side.  Not much bleeding so no First Aid necessary.  Turned North up the coast for home but our #4 engine was burning so we landed at the nearest field, settling, an RAF Spitfire field, 5 miles south of the Thames river near London. . . Plane was riddled with holes.  Must have been 200-300 holes in it, 20 mm cannon holes (maybe 7 or in it.  Can’t see how the tail and waist gunners got back alive.  Holes within inches of them – dozens of them.  One 20mm went through our bombay with our 12 incendiary bombs still there.  Nose was not shot up as much as they all attacked from the tail.  Skinny Frier turned back 10 min.  after we did and evidently went down as they haven’t heard from him. . .Three gunners in our Group died on the raid from anoxia.  Their oxygen tubes came loose and they didn’t know it.  Moral: Stay in formation, even if you have to get out and push.”

There’s more, much more..:

WWII B-17 Log  

Postscript: On April 7, 1945 the Eighth Air Force dispatched thirty-two B-17 and B-24 groups and fourteen Mustang groups  to targets in the small area of Germany still controlled by the Nazis, hitting the remaining airfields where Luftwaffe jets were stationed. In addition, almost 300 German aircraft of all types were destroyed in strafing attacks. On April 16, this record was broken when over 700 German aircraft were destroyed on the ground.  The end came on April 25, 1945 when Eighth Air Force flew its last full-scale mission of the European War. B-17s hit the Skoda armaments factory at Pilsen in Czechoslovakia, while B-24s bombed rail complexes surrounding Hitler’s mountain retreat at Berchtesgarden.  In all, 10, 361 missions were flown by the Eight Air Force B-17 and B-24 crews with 4,145 aircraft lost in combat (6, 866 total counting all reasons for losses).

©2009 Steeljaw Scribe. All Rights Reserved.

Breathes there a soul so dead that these words don’t send a chill through the spine?

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them,…

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness…

That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government,…

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States;

Read the entire docment here 4.

The parchment is aged and water stained, the ink faded and behind the thick, bullet prof glass it is difficult to discern.  And yet — and yet the power of those words have shaken empires to their very roots and given hope to generations.  The future they but dimly perceived, we live today. This is what it means to risk it all – in the hope, fear and prayer that the course you are charting will mean a better tomorrow; to know that there is no out, no “Plan B”…

©2009 Steeljaw Scribe. All Rights Reserved.