A PERSONAL STORY (continued from cover)  

Iwo was taken at great human cost in March 1945, to provide an emergency sanctuary for many crippled B-29s returning from high level bombing raids on the mainland.  Their permanent base was in the Mariana Islands, 600 miles farther south.  For further protection, the B-29s were subsequently joined by the Army’s P51 fighter planes while over mainland targets.  The P51s were based on Iwo and equipped with extra gas tanks in order to reach the mainland, but could still only spend a few minutes over the target area.  

Our Navy squadron was unique in that a few of its planes were equipped with newly-developed countermeasures equipment.  My primary function was to operate these instruments when our patrols were assigned to mainland coastal areas.  The equipment was highly secretive.  Its purpose was to detect the location, and measure the electronic characteristics of Japanese radar installations.  This information would then be used to jam or deceive enemy radars during the planned invasion of the Japanese homeland.  

The squadron was composed of 15 PB4Y-2s, the Navy's version of the Air Force's four-engine, B-24 bomber.  The Navy plane was 7 ft. longer with a tall, single vertical stabilizer rather than the twin tails of the B-24.  The extra length was to accommodate the new countermeasures equipment. The plane had 12, turret mounted, 50 cal. machine guns.  However, because of the nature of our low-level attack procedures, the standard bomb sight equipment below the nose turret was removed in favor of two, 20mm cannons controlled directly by the pilot.  Patrols were normally 8-10 hours duration.  The normal, twelve-man crew was composed of three officers; pilot, copilot and navigator, and nine enlisted men; gunners, radiomen and mechanics.  When the countermeasures equipment was to be used, I was number 13!

THE DITCHING  

The morning of April 8, 1945 was dreary at our primary base on Tinian, one of the Mariana Islands.  After a 4 AM takeoff we flew in virtually continuous “soup”, with little opportunity for visual navigation.  Radar signals are also attenuated in this type of environment.   Our assigned patrol sector was to the North of Iwo toward Honshu, Japan.  Some 100 miles north of Iwo is a group of small volcanic islands, the Bonins, occupied by the Japanese military.  One, Chichi Jima, provided a distinct radar signature because of its sharp protrusion above the sea.  After passing the Bonins we were uncertain of our location the remainder of the day.  We were unable to detect Chichi Jima on the return leg of our patrol.  Even under the poor weather conditions, I would have expected to see Chichi’s radar signature within 50 miles of the island.  As an aside, I have since learned that the Japanese general in charge of their forces on Chichi Jima, vowed to eat the liver of any U. S. airmen they captured.  Fortunately we didn't land near there.  

By late afternoon we concluded that we were hopelessly lost.  After repeated attempts we finally made radio contact with Iwo Jima through an Army Air Force flight controller.  What a relief!  He said he had us on his radar and directed us to follow a southwesterly course to the island.  About a half an hour later, he radioed again to inform us that he had been mistakenly tracking a B-29.  He was very apologetic, and had no idea where we might be.  We then backtracked toward(?) Iwo until our pilot ordered us to prepare the plane for ditching at sea before nightfall.  Furthermore, we had been airborne for more than 13 hours and were very low on fuel.  

Our regular flight crew members had been trained in ditching procedures.  I had not.  They worked efficiently, first dropping all the 500lb. bombs into the sea, followed by all remaining materials that might break loose and become projectiles during impact. Various pieces of equipment were also discarded to reduce weight.  Finally our pilot, Lt. Hazlett, ordered us to prepare for impact.  Although very scared, I had confidence in his ability to land this plane at sea.  He was a veteran pilot and had several years of experience flying sea planes.  He landed flawlessly in rough seas at 5:45 PM.                                                              (continued on page 4)

A PERSONAL STORY (continued)  

There are two escape hatches on the top of the plane's fuselage, one in front and another in the rear.  Life rafts and other emergency equipment were taken out through the hatches by the first few crew members.  By the time all 13 people were out, the two life rafts had been inflated and some of the crew simply stepped from the plane onto the rafts.  We quickly paddled the rafts away from the plane.  It sunk about 20 minutes after landing.  There was one casualty--a small dog named "Apache" whose owner was our radioman.  He had been killed by a piece of steel armor plate during impact.  Nightfall was approaching quickly and we paddled vigorously trying to keep the two rafts close together.  Subsequently, the rafts were tied together with a rope.  However, it had to be manned continuously to keep from breaking.  There was always concern about our rafts losing one another.  

A few hours after nightfall the weather had cleared somewhat.  We heard a plane and could see its lights passing overhead, but we were unprepared for such an opportunity.  By the time our men had located a flare gun, the plane was beyond us heading southward.  Although our flares were finally fired into the sky only an alert crewman in the rear of the plane could have seen them.  The plane was probably in transit from Iwo Jima to our base in Tinian for the crew's rest and relaxation.  Reconnaissance patrols were not normally flown at night.  Except for the pilots, most of the crew usually slept during these transits.  We concluded that our position must be about due south of Iwo and along a well-traveled flight path.  A good omen for our quick rescue.

BASKING AT SEA  

After a rainy, sleepless night morning brought renewed hope for rescue.  I was terribly seasick.  During the raft boarding I swallowed some gasoline-saturated seawater which further aggravated my condition.  I guess the others were better sailors.  We fixed a radar reflector to one of the rafts. It looks like an inverted umbrella, but provides an efficient reflecting surface for radar waves.  Rubber rafts make poor radar reflectors.  The day was uneventful.  By means of a hand cranked transmitter we sent out SOS signals but no planes nor ships responded.  We had a few gallons of fresh water and some leftover sandwiches from the previous day's lunch.  Food was of no interest to me.  We were also realizing that we should try to conserve our resources.  It may be a long haul.  Maybe we were not on a flight path after all.  

After a second night of seeing phantom lights on the sea and in the air, our spirits were raised by improvement in the weather.  The warming sun was welcome until mid afternoon when some of us became severely burned.  I ate half a jelly sandwich and also tried some local "sushi" to benefit from the fresh water in a fish's flesh.  It had virtually no taste.  We were also visited by a shark circling our rafts that afternoon.  He left after several pistol shots.  Again, no planes or ships sighted.  

By the next day we were getting very stiff from sitting closely bunched along the perimeter of each raft.  Food was almost gone but we still had water--some of which was gathered during the rains.  Our only exercise was taking our turn at holding the tie rope to keep the rafts together.  We studied maps, speculating where we might be.  What if we encountered a Japanese ship?  We had little choice but to surrender.  In retrospect, that would have been a death sentence.  

DISCOVERY  

On the morning of our third day at sea we were becoming more apprehensive.  We had seen no hopeful signs since the overflight on the night of our ditching.  As a general rule we could expect the Navy to deliberately search for us for up to three days.  Thereafter it would be done in conjunction with normal operations.  They had no idea where we were nor if we were even alive.  

A PERSONAL STORY (continued)  

Suddenly in the distant sky appeared a plane (PB4Y1) heading on a beeline in our direction.  All hands waved frantically to attract their attention.  They acknowledged by circling our position.  It was a patrol bomber from another Navy squadron (102?).  Shortly thereafter they passed directly overhead to drop food and water attached to an inflated life jacket.  They also took our picture from a low altitude (copy attached).  A note from the pilot gave our position, 250 miles northwest of Iwo Jima, and assurance that he had radioed for a rescue seaplane.  We felt secure as he continued circling our position until the seaplane arrived in mid afternoon.  

In the interim, the weather worsened.  Rain clouds were forming, the winds increasing and the sky becoming overcast.  On arrival the seaplane made several passes at landing but the sea was too rough and it started to rain.  They decided to wait for conditions to moderate.  It never happened.  The plane then left for Iwo, presumably planning to return when the weather improved.   At least they knew where we were and spirits improved dramatically.  Significantly, even under the adverse conditions of the past several days, our people never got into any serious arguments or confrontations.  We were all in the same boat(s)!

APRIL 11, 1945, LOCATION: 27-00 N, 137-30 E, Photo from discovery plane. 13 men in 2 rafts. They’re towing the life jacket dropped from the plane.

RESCUE!  

The rain continued into the night and the seas were still rough.  No stars were visible.  However, we had food, water and the expectation of being picked out of the sea tomorrow.  Things were looking up in spite of the weather!  Later that night one of the crewmen thought he saw a red light blinking on the northern horizon.  Others thought so too, but it quickly disappeared.  Our men had fired several flares and pistol shots skyward to attract the attention of whatever might be out there. It was unlikely that they could see us otherwise.  An hour or so passed with no further sightings nor response to our actions.  It must have been an illusion.   (continued on page 6)

A PERSONAL STORY (continued)  

We relaxed again, thinking of tomorrow's activities.  Suddenly we were in the beam of a huge, very bright spotlight from the south.  There was no engine sound--only the action of the waves beating against the hull of what looked like a large ship.  But we were virtually blinded by the light.  We were no more than 30 yards from the ship yet hadn't even noticed it in the darkness.  Was this a Japanese vessel?  We were relieved when we heard the shouts of the crewmen on the ship.  It was an American submarine!  

All the paddles came out and we hurried to the sub.  They were adamant about getting aboard quickly so that they could submerge.  We were in enemy territory.  Several of the men were lifted off the rafts on the starboard side of the sub.  They asked those remaining to paddle around to the port side of the vessel where there was a ladder to climb up to the deck.  I was one of those.  As we passed around the bow of the ship a wave heaved it up and it punctured both rafts when it came down.  Needless to say we hurried to the other side, climbed the ladder and crawled onto the deck.  We hadn't stood up for more than three days, and were very weak.  They destroyed the life rafts and took us below.  Bells rang and we dove.  It was 2:20 AM, April 12, 1945.  

All of us were checked out by the sub's medical technician.  Everyone was OK considering the circumstances.  We were given clean, dry clothes and the cook offered to prepare us anything we wanted to eat.  Submarines are reputed to have the best food in the Navy.  I and several others had steak and eggs.  We also ate lots of freshly baked bread which tasted like cake after our ordeal.  Their reputation for good food is well-deserved.  By 4 AM we all retired to bed in bunks given up by the crewmen.  What hospitality!

SOME IMPORTANT REVELATIONS  

After a good night's sleep and more food we started to regain strength quickly.  We also noticed that the sub had a Japanese survivor from the ship they had sunk, the AWA MARU.  He was confined to a “jail cell” about the size of a coat closet.  This clue led to the unusual story of how the submarine, the USS QUEENFISH, was in a position to rescue our plane crew.  

The US had several submarines patrolling the shipping lanes between the Japanese mainland and the South China Sea.  It was the source area for their raw materials to prosecute the war.  For the last several months the subs had been sinking most of these supply ships, causing severe shortages in the homeland.  It also explains why we rarely encountered Japanese planes in our patrols--a shortage of fuel.  They were stockpiling it for our invasion.   

Because of these shortages it was long suspected that some of Japan's numerous, well marked "Hospital" ships were carrying something other than casualties and medical supplies.  On April 1, in dense fog, the QUEENFISH had mistakenly sunk one of these ships in the Formosa Straits.  

Its radar signature was misinterpreted as that of a destroyer.  The ship was carrying thousands of bales of rubber and other strategic materials and some 1700 passengers; Japanese seamen, engineers and government officials; not casualties. Most of the passengers perished in the sinking.  In order to augment their case the sub's crew picked up samples of the cargo and one of the few survivors for evidence.  Initially the survivor, rescued from the sea, indicated he did not understand English.  However, when they threatened to throw him back into the sea and retrieve another man, he became very fluent in English.  He had lived in San Francisco for several years.  

The Japanese publicized this "hospital ship sinking" worldwide.  The US Navy offered their rebuttal; lack of communications and poor visibility due to weather, but to no avail.  Their only recourse then was to recall the submarine commander, Charles E. Loughlin, to "face court-martial proceedings".  Most thought the trial never would be carried out. (continued on page 7)

A PERSONAL STORY (continued)  

On the previous day, when the seaplane had been unable to rescue us, we assumed they immediately notified their Iwo base.  The communications trail beyond that point is unknown.  The base for submarine operations in the western Pacific was the island of Guam, some 800 miles to the south of Iwo.  Apparently someone on Guam was notified of our predicament.  Knowing that the QUEENFISH was passing through the vicinity, they directed the submarine to seek us out. Presumably these various communications and plans for sub recovery had to occur within a period of about six hours.  There must be several people who are due credit for our rescue.  It was remarkable that the sub could even find us given the weather conditions and their navigation capabilities at the time.  Furthermore, we never met the crew of the plane that initially found us!  I guess all their actions were considered part of their day’s work.  

We also learned that the red light seen sporadically by the raft crew belonged to the submarine.  They had a fix on us from the raft's radar reflector.  However, when they saw all the flares and shooting of tracer bullets, they immediately doused the lights and submerged.  They were unsure what this target was and whether it might be a Jap destroyer with much larger guns.  That is why they circled and approached us undetected from the south.  The rescue of downed airmen by submarines was not uncommon.  They saved the lives of hundreds of U. S. airmen—both Air Force and Navy.  

HOMEWARD BOUND  

The trip to the submarine base on Guam was a pleasure cruise for our plane crew.  Good food and relaxation.  We arrived around noon on April, 14th, fully recovered from our ordeal.  During the course of the trip we could observe many of the sub's unique operational procedures.  It is truly the "Silent Service" when submerged.  

The sub was greeted by a large welcoming committee on the dock at Guam.   All hands were on deck to acknowledge this reception.  Whistles were blowing, a band was playing and Navy brass came on board to greet everyone.  Next came gallons of ice cream and other refreshments.  Was this the prelude to a court martial for the captain?  We didn't think so, and were relieved.  Shortly thereafter, we bid our thanks and goodbyes and were hustled off to the airport for our plane trip to Tinian for further assignment.  

At Tinian we were purportedly offered the option of going to Australia for a month of Rest and Relaxation; or resume our patrol duties and be the first crew relieved on a rotational schedule.  We all felt well physically and the war seemed to be going in our favor so we chose to resume our duties.  We were soon on our way back to Iwo.  (Later experiences caused us to rethink this selection).  On April 22, 1945, we sunk two small ships off the coast of Japan.  

POST WAR INFORMATION  

Based on various post WWII books and other publications, I have gathered the following, related information:  

(a) The submarine commander, Charles Loughlin, was court-martialed, and relieved of his command.  During the trial he never revealed that his communications officer failed to inform him of a radio message directing all subs to allow this particular "hospital" ship safe passage to Japan. Loughlin was found guilty of negligence, but received a lighter sentence than most expected.  The fact that the ship was carrying “illegal” cargo was not an issue. (continued page 8)

A PERSONAL STORY (continued)  

Loughlin graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1933, where he was an All American basketball player.  He was credited with having sunk 8 Japanese vessels, and had a superior war record.  He retired in 1983, after advancing to the level of Rear Admiral.  At that time he became the subject of a full page story in the Pittsburgh Press.  This was unusual since he had no ties to Pittsburgh whatsoever.  Their focus was on the sinking of the "hospital" ship.  The article never mentioned his saving the lives of 13 airmen.  

(b) The attached map depicts the geographic area in which all these events took place.  Note the names and locations of 38 US submarines throughout the region on April 6, 1945, six days before our rescue.  The QUEENFISH is located near the east coast of China, immediately north of Formosa.  By this time there were fewer shipping targets for the subs.  Whether intended or not, many were in strategic locations to recover downed airmen.  I have added my best estimate of our April 8th patrol route from Tinian in the Mariana Islands to the vicinity of northern Japan; and the return attempt to land at Iwo Jima.  An "X" indicates our ditching location and an "R" the rescue position.   The track totals approximately 2000 miles and a flight time of 14 hours.

Thanks, Bob, for sharing the interesting account of your experience during your service. As for the rest of you, we need your personal story to share in future newsletters. Please submit your story to Lisa Kirk via email or US Mail.  Addresses under volunteers on page 10. 

SQUADRON WEBSITES  

                    http://www.flickr.com/photos/sdasmarchives        VPB-106 & VPB-102/14

     http://vpb_102.tripod.com/index.htm                           VPB-102/14

http://vpb106.com/index.html                                        VPB-106

http://www.navalaviationmuseum.org/archive/              VB-106

SCUTTLEBUTT  

G. Grissom Miller (106) – Just some info on my journey into the 90’s.  As a research microbiologist for forty five years (Dendrology) on my research, mountain, farm, it was always impossible for me to attend any of the reunions.  Through the newsletters I kept pretty well in touch.  As radioman in Crew 13, I kept close, more so with “Hank” Schneider.  He and his wife visited me at my farm and got to see a lot of my mountains (3,700 ft. altitude) and experience a lot of lush countryside with its high humidity.  Even as things were busy on the farm we visited a lot of well-known places for visitors to our state (he resides in Millers Creek, North Carolina).  Since I’ve dug a lot of the “GOOD” out of almost 100 years, raised a family of one boy (30 year man in Army, ugh!) two girls.  No grand Millers;  wife, Fay, now a “flower girl” post retirement as teacher.  As far as I can learn, I’m the last of the “106^th”.  Just finished a seminar on Ebola Virus and resigned from our professional group.  Time to hang it up, I suppose.  Just piddle around the farm and watch the bears, wolves, coyotes, deer and other pests.  Many thanks to all who have worked to keep a group in touch for so long.  HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

Marcia Penley Bray, daughter of Maurice Penley (102) -  The Penley family would like to thank Francis Lencioni (Lenc) for submitting his personal story of what happened to Crew 8 on Sept. 9, 1944 in the latest newsletter (December 2014). We were honored for the tribute to our father, Maurice Penley.  For those of you who may not know, Dad passed away in November of 2012.  We are grateful to Mr. Lencioni for highlighting the important part Dad -- and the entire squadron -- played in the war. We have always been proud of him and will remember how the squadron reunions were so enjoyable for Dad and Mom (Lorraine Penley).  Many thanks, and best wishes to you all.  Marcia, Jay, Maureen and the entire Penley family

Robert V. Brodine  (106) – I have never learned what squadron nor the people involved in these incidents (see A Personal Story – Our Rescue At Sea).  It seems likely the planes could have been from 102!  I wonder if any of the people currently in the Association would have any knowledge of this.  Our pilot at the time was William R. Hazlett, from Smicksburg, PA.   (Bob served in Squadrons 106 & 108)

Jennifer Wilson, granddaughter of Charles and Ruth Haddenham (102/106) -  Jennifer called to notify us of Ruth’s passing on 9/22/14.  Chuck has moved to Washington Veterans Home in Retsil, Washington.  Chuck and Ruth Ann attended many reunions and Jennifer, her husband and son, attended the 2011 Reunion in S.D.

*** PLEASE SEND IN YOUR SCUTTLEBUTT!!!

A BIT OF NOSTALGIA FOR VPB-102  

This year will be the 25^th time the members of Squadrons 102 and 106 have gathered for a reunion since their tours ended during and after World War II.  This newspaper article covering Squadron 102’s first reunion is from the front page of the Seminole Daily Sentinel (Oklahoma) on Sunday, June 13, 1976.

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