80th Fighter Squadron

Memoirs of World War II Era Headhunters

If you'd like to hear some great background music to "moon" over while reading, 
just click here!

by Hugh Hatfield

"I remember the first day I came into the 80th Fighter Squadron. I was a new pilot thinking I was pretty good. All of a sudden a P-38 came over on the deck and the pilot rolled it right over on its back and headed straight up. I asked who that was and one of the guys said 'That's Cy Homer, he's just checking out that new P-38.'

The next day I flew over Wewak with Capt 'Corky' Smith. He told me to do the same things he did. So he feathered one engine, and so did I. He put that P-38 through every maneuver possible just to show me what a fine plane it was. I knew when we landed I had a lot to learn. So the pilots that we thought of as old showed us young fellows how it was done. I remember how I was so impressed with all the ability there was regardless of what everyone was doing. Everyone took us under their wing to help us and this I will never forget.

I soon learned we were in a deadly game as Bob Henry from our tent was killed on take off. I remember we went to Wadbi just after it was taken and Anderson who had been there a little longer than I had said, 'Now Hatfield if the Japs hit us tonight I will come and get you and we will head for the woods.' Well, the Japs did come and their bombs hit the other side of the strip setting some planes on fire. We were sleeping in hammocks between the tail booms so I jumped up to get Andy but he had already headed for the woods. I get there and find him all down behind a gas dump and as he got up he stepped in the middle of a decayed dead Jap.

We soon moved to Owi Island. I was a good friend of Cy Homer and I always shot the bull with him that I was the bravest adventurer of them all. So one day Cy and me and I believe someone else started out to explore a couple of small islands some distance from our island. We were using small rubber rafts. We had trouble reaching one of the islands due to currents and we noticed some planes circling and just as we got to the island we saw a PT Boat coming. We got under a ledge of rocks and hid, but the commander of the PT Boat called over his speaker saying that he had orders to pick us up. So we paddled out to his boat and he took us back to our camp. Our camp was right on the water so everyone saw us get off the boat. The commander of the boat was one of the Vanderbilt boys. I believe it was Alf the 3rd, Cy had met him on leave in Sidney. Major Robbins said he appreciated our spirit but since it cost the military $250,000 to get us home that he didn't want any more of that stuff. Also, I caught Typhus and was out of action for five or six weeks. We flew a lot of good missions from this island.

We soon moved to Morotai and I began to think we were getting back to civilization as the country-side was so different. We started to hit the Philippines then. Here we lost some fine young boys-Ladd, Johnson, others. I came close once as I was coming in to land and a pin in the nose wheel failed and I scooted down the runway on the nose but luckily I scooted straight. I remember so well our first mission into Mindanao; we had just destroyed a truck convoy and as we flew up the road there was what looked like a Philippine family waving a large American flag. They proved very friendly as I recall. Damon was returned by them after many days when he was shot down. I had some experience with Jap ships, but the Jap ships we ran into in the invasion of Leyte were something else. We flew over, dive bombed, strafed, etc. I remember so well Calderwood being lost in this action. He probably should have been home as he was burned so bad on a crash up at Owi.

We slept between our tail booms on the Leyte strip-It was here I had some more luck. One day I was taking off and at about 110 miles per hour I lost my right engine-fully loaded. I dropped tanks and pulled wheels up and then hit the runway and started sliding on the metal strip. The plane stayed on its belly-it caught on fire but I got out just fine. There was an Infantry Captain who met me as I jumped off the wing. I failed to get his name. You know it took some guts to get that close to a burning P-38. Mike Weinrick was the officer in charge of the strip. I said; 'Mike, what do you want me to do?' He looked at the burning plane and said, 'Hell, this is war, just forget it....' I guess someone filled out the paperwork.

Our move to Mindoro was some move. Some way Anderson got in the way of some Jap guns and they caught one of his engines on fire. He came over the strip and the tower gave him a red light so he pulled up and bellied-in out in a field nearby. We were at a movie a couple weeks later and they showed fighting at Mindoro and here comes a 38 across the screen on fire-Andy was sitting there in a cast from his waist up-someone said there's Andy and Andy said, 'No, that's not me, that's my wingman!' He had to be the luckiest man over there.

I remember an accident Campbell had-he went down near our field and there was just a ball of flames and we all thought he was dead, but a little while later he walked in! A couple of trees had separated the canopy from the plane and he had fallen out before it crashed!

The most dangerous mission I flew on was on the night of 6 Dec, 1944. Sixteen of us older pilots hit a group of Jap ships that had shipped to Mindoro to shell and we thought maybe they would try to land troops. It was dark and when you fired your guns it would almost keep you from seeing where you were much-less what you were shooting at. We dropped bombs and strafed and we did a pretty good job. As I remember most everyone got back to Leyte except O.J. Harris and I thought he had been killed because the air was full of flak and other planes. He got low on a pass and hit the top of a ship-went up in a ball of flames and somehow jumped out. Got down OK but there were Japs in the water and he could hear them talking around him. But he got to shore with a little help from some natives the next day. I believe his escape story is one of the greatest I have ever heard. Floyd might have had to bail out over the field that night but I am not sure. Harris is now blind but he is a good friend and was a good pilot.

There is no question the missions against shipping were the most dangerous that I flew. I remember coming back out from near China and one of the pilots called Cy and said, 'Cy, I only have 25 gallons per engine left.' and old Cy called back and said, 'Don't worry about it, I only have 20.' Both men made it just fine. You know I remember so vividly how well I was treated by the airmen or enlisted as it was then and also by the officers. An outfit like the 80th had so many outstanding people. I don't remember his name, but one of the men that loaded our guns was a teacher-a lot older than me and I always called him mister.

Its been a long time ago but I will never forget the men-many I have forgotten their names, but not their deeds. As I look back the enlisted men did not get the credit they deserved. I thanked them all when I left, but that is so little for all that they did. You boys in the 'JUVATS' are doing a terrific job and I congratulate you."

- Hugh Hatfield

Return to the top of memoirs.

by M.F. Kirby

"What I have to say may not be entirely accurate for fifty years has a way of dimming the exact truth, but I will try. Another thing that I have noticed, the more of the participants that die off seems to make the survivors more positive in the telling of their tales. By the way, all of the historical information that I have collected is posted with the Aerospace Museum in San Diego.

I read in one book dealing with the early part of the war that the 74th Pursuit Squadron was the very first operational squadron in combat from Port Moresby. Who they were or where they went I have no idea whatsoever. The 35th and 36th squadron relieved them around the first of May 1942. The 80th remained at Petrie and acted as a replacement squadron. Each time either of the two sister squadrons lost personnel, the 80th saw to it that they received a new body. The 35th and 36th only remained in combat for about a month, the survivors were removed to Charters Towers, near Townsville Australia. They were replaced by the 39th and 40th squadrons of the 35th group. These two squadron remained engaged for six weeks, or until mid-July.

These two squadrons were replaced by the 41st of the 35th group, and the 80th. The 41st flew from 7-Mile Strip while the 80th occupied both 12-Mile and 14-Mile Strips. The two strips were separated by the Laloki River. 14-Mile was so dusty that we finally abandoned it and moved everything to 12-Mile. When we took off from 14-Mile you wanted to make certain that you stayed in the dust. If things started to lighten up you knew you were getting off the runway.

When a squadron was relieved the personnel would pack their belongings in a duffel bag and head for 7-Mile Strip to catch a ride to Townsille. They would leave their planes and equipment. You inherited everything.

After we had been there for about a month we started looking for replacements. At the end of six weeks we just knew they had to be there. After two months "Squeeze" Wurtsmith, Commander of Fifth Air Command, drove up one day to inform us that this was a permanent change of station. The 80th was committed to combat from that day until the end of the war, with the slight break to go to Mareeba Australia to pick up the P-38s.

Remember, I mentioned that the 80th was acting as the replacement squadron for the other two squadrons. When the 80th was committed to combat, it went north with only about half strength itself!

This is where I entered the picture. Along with about half of the squadron, I was in the "Panama Bunch." A large number of us were to have gone to Africa and go to work for Pan American Airways. We were to ferry P-40s from Accra Gold Coast to Khartoum, on the Nile. We were to resign our commissions-civilians had to do it since we were not at war at the time. I checked out in a P-40 on the morning of 7 December, 1941. With war coming on they did not need civilians for anything, so all of that bunch ended up in Panama eventually.

Following the battles of Midway and the Coral Sea they assumed that the Canal would be safe, so orders to get us out of there and into combat were immediate. We arrived in New Castle Australia on 7 July 1942. No one had any idea who we were, where we were from, how we got there, or even whose side we were on! We spent about a week there awaiting orders. Finally, we caught a train to Sydney. Reported in, after much searching for someone to report in to. They immediately us to every organization in the theater. Then some wise one awakened just long enough to realize that they had just committed the 80th to combat and that they were only at half strength. So, more orders had to be issued countermanding the first orders, the about half of us were finally assigned to the 80th, with the remained being scattered. That should give you some idea as to the composition of the early squadron.

"Virgins Lane" was not a ravine, but was built on the side of a small hill. A very steep grade accessed the area. Immediately upon entering was a relatively large area that was relatively flat. This was where the Officers' Club, Orderly Room, Mess Hall, and Dispensary were located. Each of these buildings were grass hutments constructed by native labor prior to our arrival. This had been the 40th's quarters before our arrival. Then all over the side of the hill were slit trenches with further small grass shacks for living quarters, about five or six men per hut. They were nothing more than roof, with sides open. We slept under mosquito netting with our personal gear in a foot locker beneath the cots. The 80th had the hospital cots, the only outfit on the island to have such. It was a subject that was never discussed as to where they had come from. They were there, so we didn't ask any questions. The Mess Hall was a tent. The sides were of canvas but the front and back were of netting for ventilation. Each Friday they served canned Salmon. You could always tell when Friday arrived because the flies gathered at the tent in such numbers that they would almost cause it to collapse. Our showers were of the outdoor variety, that is, until the nurses started arriving, which was about when we left for Milne Bay.

Shortly after we arrived the above setup played a very important part in one of our biggest battles. The Kunai grass growing on our hill had become ignited one day. By nightfall the blaze was out but there were still several twigs and limbs glowing after dark. We got our usual bombing raid that night. After the lights in the camp area were extinguished a rumor started that the Japs were landing paratroopers. How it was able to spread throughout the camp so fast will never be known. Someone hollered to put out the cigarettes (the twigs glowing). Since that got no response, someone decided to shoot them out. They were glowing just above a slit trench located in my area. That slit trench fired back. Before long we had a real war going on within the camp area. Fortunately, everyone was such a marksman as I, and no one was hurt.

While the 80th was in New Guinea, the 35th and 36th, along with Group Headquarters, were in Australia. Group Headquarters was like a millstone around your neck, but they were always associated with the two older squadrons. They never flew with us, we never saw them. In fact, I might have known who the Group Commander was, but probably did not. We were a bastard organization. We became very independent and isolated. We could operate much more efficiently. Consequential, this independence carries through to this very day. They have constantly sought to be invited to our reunions, to no avail!

Here is something few people realize, our entire duty and responsibility was to hold and contain the Japanese until the war in Europe was completed. They gave us only that equipment that Europe did not want; the B-24, B-25, and the P-38. Instead of holding, we almost had Japan whipped by the time that the European Theater was finished. The world has yet to realize what an outstanding task that General George C. Kenney performed. Kenney was head and shoulders above any other officer in the Air Corps. Let me suggest, if you are interested in WWII history, read "General Kenney Report." It is by far the best book on the Southwest Pacific, in spite of being among the few in which I am not mentioned...

Incidentally, notice that the 80th had letters instead of numbers designating their planes. This happens to be happenstance. We ended up with the 40th squadron planes when we relieved them in July 1942. They were marked with letters. We merely kept the tradition. Our nose cone and markings were originally a baby crap yellow. This changed, I do not know why, to green shortly after receiving the P-38s.

Also, it was Robbins' son Robert that was responsible for the squadron returning to the original headhunter patch. He wrote home asking for one of the originals. They immediately returned to its use. It was during Duthie's command that the insignia received official recognition.

I would like to take this opportunity to express my appreciation for all that you are doing to try and get the history straight. It is a history worth preserving."

- M. F. Kirby

Click on this photo for a better view

This photo, taken in July 2000, is a picture of Kirby's WWII leather flight jacket showing the original 80th Fighter Squadron patch of Donald Duck empting a chamber pot on the Japanese Rising Sun.  Kirby's leather name tag is above it on the left chest, and a small portion of the 5th Air Force patch also can be seen on the left shoulder.  This patch was only used for a few months, as it was replaced by our headhunter patch.  Kirby wore this jacket to our Washington, DC reunion , then donated it to our Association.  It will be a permanent part of our Squadron's memorabilia.  For more details on this patch and the complete history of our Squadron Patch, go to the Patch History Page.

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Paul Murphey

"My class was 43-D, we graduated at Williams Field, Chandler, AZ on April 12, 1943. most of this class all trained in the RP-322, a P-38 with no supercharger. It was built for the British and they turned it down. It seemed like a speeding bullet after flying AT-17s and AT-9s. After graduation we were sent to Muroc, CA out in the desert to fly the real thing. After about two weeks of intensive training all that wanted to stay in 38s were sent to the West Coast for more training. my assignment was to Santa Ana near the cadet induction base and across the street from the Marine base at El Toro.

We flew every day and formation flying was taught along with high altitude work. Also big dog fights with Marine Corsairs daily. We fired the guns twice, once at a ground target and once at a tow sleeve. We stayed at Santa Ana about six weeks, flew patrols over the ocean, checked out whales that somebody would report as Jap subs. Twelve of us were picked to be the first of 43-D to go overseas. Edwin L. DeGraffenreid, Richard E. Dotson, Robert E. Feehan, Stanley Johnson, Paul C. Murphey, John C. McClean, Jennngs L. Myers, Louis Schriber, James R. Farris, Robert W. Wood, William F. Williams and Murtha J. McCarthey.

When the alert came we were put on the train with all our gear, including a new parachute and winter flying clothes. On arrival at Hamilton Field we were assigned BOQ rooms and told we could go into San Francisco, but be back on the base by 10:00 a.m. This went on for several days then bam, the orders came. We were moved to the hanger area with everything we owned and met ten more young pilots (P-47 jockeys). Lots of good natured kidding about airplanes. There was our transportation, a B-24 with bomb racks out and fuel tanks in their place.

We all noticed no seats, it turned out that we were to sit on the floor. We left about 11:00 a.m. and headed out San Francisco Bay. One hour out we opened our orders and they said Brisbane and no one was sure where that was. We landed at Hickam Field, Honolulu about 5:00 p.m. and got to stretch and get something to eat. The crew told us to carry snacks as we would fly all night. After take-off the pilot came back and showed us on his map where we were going. It was to Christmas Island, a very small dot in a big ocean. When we landed the door was opened and a ground crew sprayed the inside with DDT. They did not want the mosquitoes to cross breed. This happened at every landing at any rate they did feed us breakfast and off we went again. We were headed for American Samoa. We landed at Pago Pago, Samoa early enough to get some exercise and the Chief had a great meal of roast pig for us. The best thing was to sleep in a bed that night.

The next stay was to be in the Fiji islands. We crossed the international date line and were initiated in the Short Snorter Club. I still have most of mine but it has been through our washing machine once, thanks to Sue. Our crew decided to get some rest here so we spent a day and night in the Fiji islands. The next stop was New Caldonia then Brisbane, Australia. We landed at Amberly Field, our home for about two weeks. There was more training, mostly single engine work and formation flying. One pilot, R.E. Dotson was killed here in a training accident.

About first of July our assignments came in. Six of us went to the 80th (McCarthey, DeGraffenreid, Feehan, Schriber, Myers, and me). One man was lost, one transferred to other duties. The remaining four went to the 9th Squadron (Johnson, McClean, Wood, Williams). Two from each squadron got home; Wood and Williams from the 9th and Schriber and me from the 80th. All four still alive as of June 19, 1995.

Our introduction to combat was almost immediate. Major Cragg took each of us off on his wing to check us out. He loved to make twin prop wakes on the water, enough said. McCarthey was killed on his first mission, I got a probable because I did not know to watch him down. I got him smoking but my head was spinning from watching my element leader and all the Zeros around also.

All this early action came at Bogadjim, Madang, and Lae. We lost our second man (Feeham) at the same place two weeks later. Losing these two men so quick sure focused your attention on what you were doing. When you held the brakes and ran up the throttles to take-off manifold pressure it was a thrill you never forget. This was especially true flying off of Three Mile airstrip with the deep belly in the strip about even with the tower.

My first confirmed victory was at Wewak on August 24th. A large group of Zeros approached to attack the B-25s we escorted that day. I got on the tail of a Tony and put a good burst in him. He caught fire and exploded. About this time we covered the paratroop landing at Marilinann and got more help.

The new group of 38s, the 475th, joined in the battle. We had a lot of classmates with us then, even though we did not know it at the time.

Our early missions to Bogadjim and Lae or Arawi on New Britain island were replaced with a constant return to Wewak. We went so many times we made a song about it.

Ist verse, Tune of my merry Oldsmobile:

These P-38s they rattle and roar, I don't want to fly over Wewak no more. I want to go home, I want to go home. Oh my I'm to young to die, I want to go home.

2nd verse

These Zeros and bombers are to much for me, I just want to see Sydney. I want to go home, I want to go home. Oh my I'm to young to die, I want to go home.

Well, back to the war, the Wewak missions occupied most of September. Our first Rabaul mission was on October 12, very little action, but plenty later on. On October 16 my tent mate Jennings Myers got his third and fourth at Wewak. I got my second a few days later over Rapopo Strip Rabaul. A group of Zeros coming in on the B-25s was intercepted by my flight. I got on the tail of a Hamp and put a long burst in him. He exploded right in from of me and I flew through the debris.

After the November 2 raid on Rabaul, plenty of Zeros now, we made our second trip to Sydney. Lou went with me and Jennings. His tentmate, DeGraff had already been a second time, after he nearly drowned in Moresby Harbour. He put his shot up plane in the bay and it went down so fast he did not get out of his chute. His Mae West would not inflate, the chute kept bobbing up and ducking him. When he got to camp we found out the Co2 tubes were too short and none of us had one that would inflate. We put folded paper in the containers to wedge the Co2 tubes.

We stayed in the squadron apartment that trip and had a wonderful week. That Aussie beer is something and the girls were not too bad either.

One of the unwritten rules was everyone returning brought a case of whiskey back just for trading purposes. On subsequent trips we would stop at TownsVille and fly new P-38s back to New Guinea. Each ammo tray would hold one case of beer. We would climb high and get it real cold before landing.

On return from our second leave, the fun began again. On the Rabaul missions we flew east of New Guinea to Kiriwina Island. We would gas up and wait for the bombers to go by. We caught them and escorted all the way to Rabaul. On one of the low level missions (B-25s) we got in a big bunch of Zeros and all got separated. All I got that day was a few bullet holes. I heard Copper leader say to leave, as we were going to have a gas problem. After about ten minutes by myself, I saw a lone 38 and moved over to join him. It was an 80th plane flown by Sack Freeman, my flight leader for the day. He was glad to see me, but did ask where the hell I had been. We were both low on gas and looking for a navigator. We spotted a lone B-25 down low over the water. We moved down to join him, I pulled up on the pilot's side and Sack on his right wing. There was a hole you could see through and I saw the pilot's legs. He looked okay and was smoking a big cigar. We stayed with him until we could see Kiriwina in the distance. we broke off and headed down as we were flying on fumes. I touched down right behind Sack and when he got near the end of the runway, he only had one fan still turning. He did get off the runway before the other prop quit turning. He climbed out, ran into the revetment, took his pants off and threw his shorts away.

Our navigation in the early part of my career was easy. We would take off from Three Mile, climb over the mountains, rendezvous with the bombers, escort to and from the target and fly south to the coast. If you could see the fly river deltas, turn east to Moresby. Milne Bay was way east of Moresby but you could see the jut out of the peninsula. On the long missions to Wewak and Rabaul, we used compass heading and stayed with the bombers.

There are several large river systems in New Guinea and they were a big help in figuring out where you were. The Fly River on the south coast, the Markham River valley in central New Guinea and the Sepik River System near Wewak at Hollandia the mountains were very high and our maps simply said unexplored. These mountains and streams were beautiful when you had time to look. After we left main land New Guinea all our flights were over water, using coast lines and small islands as navigation aids. Over water you can watch the foam slide down the backside of the waves. This will tell you the wind direction. It is opposite to the foam. Also we were helped by two night fighter pilots that joined us. If all the instruments were out of kilter due to acrobatics, simply hang a pencil from the gun sight and it would help keep you straight and level even in clouds.

We moved over the mountains to Dobodura in mid December. I got my third victory at Wewak while flying Major Cragg's wing. A flight of hour Zeros made a head on attack at my flight. Each of us got one. They were very foolish to come head on at P-38s. my tentmate Jennings Myers got his fifth that day and he was shot down about two days later at Wewak. we lost Major Cragg when covering the landings at Cape Gloucester. Captain Jay Robbins became our CO. We affectionately called him "Cock" Robbins.

I joined with Lou Schriber and DeGraff to put up a shack. We traded for lumber and put in a floor. This was really living for New Guinea. Cock asked me to be the new liquor officer and mumbling was heard all over camp about putting the fox in charge of the hen house.

The 80th was a unique bunch of men. We had so many great pilots with lots of savvy. I flew wing as a rookie for George Welch (4 kills at Pearl Harbor), Corky Smith, Jay Robbins, Major Cragg, Cy Homer, Ken Ladd, Eddie Robertson and Norb Ruff. All these pilots were very experienced.

I got promoted to 1st Lt. and element leader about this time. we moved to Cape Gloucester on New Britain Island on March 1, 1944. If you ever heard about rain in the tropics, this was the place. We could not keep anything dry. our missions here were to Kavieng Island and other points on New Britain. Also we covered the Admiralty landings at Manus Island. When these islands were secure they became a big naval base for us and really cut Rabaul off from further supplies.

We moved back to New Guinea at the end of March. Our new home was at Nadzab in the Markham River Valley. Nadzab was inland from Lae about 30 to 40 miles. We went over 200 planes shot down while at Nadzab. All our Hollandia missions were flown from there.

I got my fourth victory at Hollandia. We were up high with the B-24s, about 25 Oscars came up to attack and we got in a good scrap. I followed one in a dive and could see the cannon shells hit the cockpit area, then he blew up and went down in flames. I also got a probable the next day. I got one burst in a Hamp before having to turn abruptly to help my wing man. We made a number of missions to Hollandia and it was removed as a threat.

I became a flight leader at this time as did Lou. DeGraff was sent home from Nadzab, Lou and I were the only two left from the six that joined at Port Moresby in July 1943. C. B. Ray moved in with us after DeGraff left and our trips to Sydney became legends.

All the P-38 squadrons were sent to a small island named Wakde. It was off the New Guinea coast west of Hollandia. We were there to cover the landings at Biak. We all felt very vulnerable as this island was so small that all the planes were parked up and down each side of this runway. We were sleeping in our cockpits or jungle hammocks tied between the tail booms. This was just waiting for Jap bombers and sure enough they came that night. At the red alert, everyone jumped up and ran away from the airstrip. The trouble was there was not any place safe to go. Two of my squadron mates were with me and we got to a storage area and got down behind some barrels. When a flare was dropped, they were gasoline barrels so we ran on the beach and waited for it all to clear. One P-38 had been hit and set afire. The ammo in the nose started exploding so we waited until it quit before going to see about our own planes.

We stayed on Wakde until the Biak landings were secure. We went back to Nadzab and got ready to move again. Our new home was Owi Island. A small island across from Biak, our camp was on the south side. We had trouble getting fresh water so we had to bath in the ocean. The coral was so bad we had to wear shoes to get out in the water. Owi was all coral so it was hard to dig a slit trench for air raid protection. After one raid the first night, the digging got a little easier. We got two bombers over every night. So they finally moved up a night fighter outfit; flying the big P-61s. They always scrambled just one so they would not shoot at each other.

The 35th and 36th squadrons joined us here and they had new P-38s, so we finally became a regular group and flew missions together.

This was also the time that Col Charles Lindberg came into our lives. He had been living with the 475th group for several weeks. Finally he came over to Owi and stayed with us for a few days. We would all gather around Cock's at night to ask questions and to just listen to him. That was really some thing for a bunch of young fighter pilots to experience. He taught and showed us how to literally wean our engines. Our gallon per hour consumption was cut from about 40 per hour down to 20 per hour. You simply pulled the mixture controls back and leaned out the fuel mixtures. The throttle settings were also a little smaller but the air speed loss, which was about 20, did not effect our ability to stay with the bombers. Getting to meet and shake hands with this man was something.

Lou's and my turn for leave came up when we were still at Owi. The week in Sydney was as great as it always was. Somehow we missed our flight back to New Guinea and Owi. We went looking for other transportation, but it was two days before our money ran out. We hitched a ride with a Colonel flying a B-26. He expected us to co-pilot for him for this ride. I was co-pilot on the first leg to Brisbane and I was sitting in the co-pilot seat watching him literally drive this monster at the runway, about 140, Lou set there for the next leg to Townsville and he agreed with me that we find other transportation. We found two new P-38s and told the Colonel goodbye. We left for Owi early the next day and arrived several hours later. We decided Cock would be happy to have us home with two new P-38s so we decided to buzz the camp. I guess we got a little low as we blew the top off of you-know-who's tent. To make a long story short, we paid an over $100.00 fine.

While we were still at Owi, a mission came up I will never forget. I flew Cock's wing with Cy as element leader and Allen Hill as his wing man. We spent the night at Middleburg Island way west of Biak and Owi. A flight of four 38s from each squadron all joined in one big fighter sweep to Davoa on the island of Mindinao. This was the first appearance over the Philippines of American fighters since 1942. There were no Jap planes much to our disappointment.

When we moved to Marotai on the 12th of October, 1944. Here the lessons form Col Lindberg paid off. Our prime effort there was to knock out a Jap oil Refinery in Borneo at a place named Balikapapen. These missions were very long, about six or more hours. These missions were all over water with very few landmarks; a few islands was it.

We were sent back to Neomfoor Island; before we left Morotai we helped cover all the activities in the Philippines, mostly at Leyte. The landings at Leyte had as many ships of all kinds as I ever saw. After Leyte, we gave up our airplanes to the squadrons at Tacloban. At Neomfoor we were equipped with all new airplanes before we moved to the Philippines. Lou and I went on leave from there and we stopped in Hollandia to pick up the orders promoting us to Captain. Cy followed us to Sydney to get married, no one knew he was even thinking about marrying but he married an Australian girl and they stayed married until Cy's death from a heart attack in 1975.

We moved up to Mindoro in December 1944. As our ground echelon and equipment were landing in a LST; it was hit and we lost everything except what we had on. No loss of life however. I was leading an eight plane patrol on December 21st when the control tower called in a plot of a single bogey north of the field. I took my flight north and saw a lone zero. I put one long burst in him and the canopy flew off and smoke poured out the Hamp, it rolled over and down he went. My second flight leader, Rusty Roth, called and said to come back as there was a large bunch approaching from over the ocean. I told Rusty to get some air and get above them. I took my flight up through them as Rusty was coming down, we scattered them like a covey of quail. I got a good burst in a Zeke, he rolled and went in the water. I attacked a third Zero and put a good burst in him but could not watch him down as my wing man had one on his tail. He broke right and I broke left to come around on the Zeke. I fired once and scored a few hits but he turned out of there so fast I could not follow. I wanted to check my wingman's plane over as he had taken some hits. I became an ace that day with number five and six confirmed, plus two probables.

A very memorable mission on the night of December 26th. Word came in the late afternoon that at Jap task force was steaming down the coast towards us on Mindoro. Cy was in Sydney with his new wife so it fell to me to get things organized. I talked to Lou and C.B. Ray the other ranking veterans. We got the groundcrews to put bombs on as many planes as they could in a short timeframe. We then selected only veteran pilots. None of us had any night experience, so this was going to be interesting to say the least. When we got ready to takeoff I had everyone turn on the running lights so as to avoid mid air collisions. All attacks were to be made from the ocean toward land. we tried to make runs by spotting the wakes of the Jap ships. In the Ocean there is a phosphorescence in the water when the water is disturbed by passage of a ship. After I made three passes, the air was getting crowded by other planes, so I told Copper to head for Leyte and Tacloban air strip. Not knowing what kind of damage the Japs would do, they wanted all planes to not land at Mindoro.

The runway lights were turned on at Tacloban so we could find it. After getting safely on the ground, I started trying to count noses. We seemed to have one plane missing. It turned out to be O.J. Harris, he was picked up in the ocean the next morning about a half mile off our beach. His story was really interesting. He had hit something on a pass and thought it was something like a mast, at any rate he put his plane in the water. I found out at the Fort Walton Beach reunion that a Jap ship passed so close that he turned his raft over and got under it until the ship passed him.

After arranging for food and a place to stay, Lou and I took off to find the 9th Squadron camp to see old friends from the trip over seas in 1943. Two of them were left, Bill Williams and Bobby Wood. We had quite a celebration. The next morning all our pilots reported to the operations on the strip. We were able to get refueled and get ammo. Operations wanted us to wait until they could get word about the conditions at the airstrip on Mindoro. The word came about 10:00 a.m. that we could return. I got the 80th pilots together, we cranked up and lined up for takeoff. There was one bunch ahead of us. I am sitting there and I hear a knock on my wing and looked back, it was a fraternity brother from my college days, Tommy Holstein from the 7th Squadron. As he climbed up to the cockpit, a Zero came over the runway on a strafing run. Someone close to the strip threw back his canopy, stood up and fired his .45 at the nip. The fifty cal. turrets on the airstrip shot him down, but I am sure that the pilot to this day thinks he got him. When we were able to get off and head back to Mindoro, there was some damage but we were able to land by staying to one side of the strip.

On December 30th Lou Schriber shot down the last victory recorded by the 80th Fighter Squadron. After that we flew mostly fighter sweeps to Formosa and covered bombing missions there. In January we helped cover the landings on Luzon. This was sure a long way from Port Moresby.

We started flying ground support as all the Jap fighters were gone. We did dive bombing and strafing in support of ground troops. Also flew cover for the landings at Zamboango on the island of Mindinao. Lou and I left the squadron in late April. We got to Leyte and went to Fifth Air Force to get our orders, we decided to see General Whitehead and get our medals. His secretary said we could not see him without an appointment. He looked out his office door to see what was going on. We saluted and told him what we were trying to do and who we were. He invited us into his office and had us sit down. He offered congratulations that we were still alive. He had his secretary fix us up as he pulled a bottle of scotch from his desk and offered us a drink. You just can't refuse a general.

We left for Biak to get on a ship headed for the states. We were put on an old Liberty ship that had not been in dry dock since being launched. Almost two years and for me, 180 missions; Lou 189, we were headed home. We docked at Seattle after 33 days on that old tub from Biak.

Our processing took two days, then it was off the Texas for me. The train went through Waco. My home town and family sure looked good to me. We had not seen each other since April 12, 1943. I had been engaged to Sue Brooks since that time also. I called her from Seattle. We met in San Antonio the next day after my processing at Fort Sam. Our marriage was set as far as I was concerned and she was still agreeable. We set the date for June 6, 1945 in Dallas. We are still together, two kids and six grandchildren. Just celebrated our 50th anniversary.

In 1980 we got together with the Kirby's and my brother-inlaw, Joe Kendrick, and started planning a trip back to New Guinea. Joe was in the 41st division band and he wanted to go back also. His band was one of the few where the band members all got combat infantry badges just like everyone else in the division. We planned this trip to include Australia and New Zealand because we all figured we would never go again. After months of planning, the time arrived. We met at DFW Airport on Thursday, February 26, 1981 to depart about 10:00 a.m. This was such a unique trip our travel agent Bob Lee was there to see us off. We landed in Hawaii at Hickam in plenty of time to do some sightseeing. on arrival I had ordered Leis for everyone and we looked the part of tourists. The next part of this trip was to be on Air Nuigini. Who would have thought they now had their own airline.

After a long anxious and fun filled flight, we landed at 7 mile airstrip , now Jackson Int. Airport in Port Morseby. As they rolled the stairs up to the plane, a clap of thunder followed by a typical Morseby hard down pour. They did bring out umbrellas for everyone. We were met by a young Australian, Bruce Hoy (museum director), that was anxious to talk and squire us around. I believe we were the first to return to New Guinea so they gave us the royal treatment. We had arranged for a van to transport us around. We were staying in a Travel Lodge Hotel. None of us could imagine a seven story building in Port Moresby. The next day we got going in earnest trying to find old land marks. The first thing we found was where Three Mile had been, now houses and a agriculture experiment station. They had made fence posts out of our old landing mats, by heating and bending them to look like posts. After that, we went up over the old gas dump hill and we found the our campsite. Tears filled my eyes and Kirby's also. A part of our officer's club steps and concrete floor were still there. We even went back a second time and took the girls to see it also. I took lots of pictures and Kirby had a movie camera. It is now on video tape. We chartered a plane to try and fly over to Dobodura, but weather closed in. Joe took a great picture of where Three Mile had been.

We stayed in Moresby two to three days before flying on down to Australia. We saw the Great Barrier Reef from Cairns, then on to Sydney. We got a car there and took off for the Kings Cross section and anyone that ever stayed in one of the squadron apartments may remember 80 Bayswater road. We found it. Then on to Canberra and Melbourne. My sister Dorothy and her husband Joe had friends in Melbourne. I even got to play a round of golf there. We left for New Zealand South Island and had a wonderful time seeing it and the North Island before heading home. We arrived back in the states after a month long trip. This was a wonderful experience for all three families.

We left for Christ Church on New Zealand's South Island and had a wonderful time seeing all over the South Island. We flew I over to Mount Cook. We took a ride on a small plane with skis and went off to land on Mount Cook glacier. On leaving the South Island from Picton, we were on a huge ferry that was so big it even carried trains. At Wellington on the North Island, we did more touring on our own private bus. The return to the states was by way of Tahiti and Bora Bora. These are really exotic places to stay. The trip was about one month long."

- Paul C. Murphey

Return to the top of memoirs.

by John Stanaway

"Wewak, on the northern coast of New Guniea, was the most heavily defended Japanese base on that island during the Southwest Pacific air campaign of World War II. At least seven fighter sentais (regiments) were based on the various surrounding fighter stations during 1943 and early 1944. Defenses were so strong, in fact, that Wewak was not assaulted on the ground by allied forces until May 1945, long after the rest of the northern coast of New Guinea had been secured. But it would be assaulted by air well before that.

The first great shock felt by Wewak came during August 1943, when waves of North American B-25 Mitchell bombers, brand-new Lockheed P-38 Lightnings and Republic P-47 Thunderbolts of the Fifth Air Force destroyed hundreds of Japanese aircraft on the ground and in the air. From August 17 until the beginning of September, the Wewak area including the surrounding airfields of Dagua and Borum-was pounded by bombers until it ceased to be an offensive base for the Japanese. Wewak did take defensive action, however, and sent large numbers of interceptors to counter Allied bombing raids and ever-increasing fighter sweeps.

By the latter part of 1943, the 80th Fighter Squadron of the 8th Fighter Group had become one of the most proficient P-38 units in the Pacific. Major Ed "Porky" Cragg had assumed command of the squadron early in 1943 and is generally credited with nicknaming the unit "Headhunters." He was a freewheeling sort of leader who inspired a buccaneer atmosphere in the squadron. Some of the men in the 80th felt he was too lax with basic flying discipline; the squadron's aerial formations were sometimes less than precise. At any rate, there was no denying that Cragg was largely responsible for the renewed fighting spirit of the 80th Fighter Squadron after it converted from Bell P-39 Airacobras to P-38s at Charters Towers, then a Royal Australian Air Force training center, in February 1943.

Luckily, pilots like Captain Danny Roberts and Lieutenant Don "Fibber" McGee already had some combat experience. McGee had been an unwilling transfer from the 80th's sister squadron, the 36th. He originally referred to the P-38 as a "flying bedstead," but learned to appreciate the swift and heavily armed Lightning as the other pilots soon did.

By the middle of December 1943, the 80th would be credited with more than 100 aerial victories, including 12 in one mission to the formidable battleground over Rabaul on New Britain Island. Also during December, the first American troop landings were made in the Arawe area on the southern coast of New Britain. Opposition from the Japanese Army Air Forces (JAAF) came mainly from airfields in the Wewak area, prompting further strikes from the Fifth Air Force to suppress the threat from that area.

Starting on December 19, Allied air units began a series of attacks on the airfields around Wewak. The most savagely fought battle came on December 22, when P-38s of the 80th Fighter Squadron and 475th Fighter Group escorted B-25s of the 345th Bomb Group in a low-level raid. Unfortunately for them, a large number of Japanese Nakajima M-43 Hayabusas (peregrine falcons, code-named Oscars by the Allies) and Kawasald Ki.61 Hiens (swallows, called Tonys by the Allies) happened to be in the air at precisely the right time and place.

The 80th Fighter Squadron was to rendezvous with B-25s of the 499th and 500th squadrons of the 345th Bomb Group on that day. The 475th would cover the other bombers in the rear, in what was expected to be the most vigorously contested part of the bombing mission.

Porky Cragg awakened especially early on December 22 to check on some details of the operation at the 80th Squadron's main base at Dobodura, on the northeast coast of New Guinea. He had never liked Wewak raids because of the hornets nest reactions they could often produce. Not that Cragg had a reputation for being overly cautious, but he did seem to take extra care that particular morning. (Some of his fellow pilots from his prewar Panama Canal days had been frustrated with him when he led a flight over the Central American waters without even checking a chart and nearly lost the entire formation before luckily finding the way home.) While 17 P-38s warmed their engines in the early morning of a humid New Guinea summer, the pilots were briefed and had the usual unappealing breakfast of whatever could be preserved in the jungle heat. Cragg led his squadron off at 7:20, just as the bright sun was rising over the horizon. Lieutenant Paul Murphey, a young Texan with two confirmed victories already to his credit, led Cragg's second element, and Captain Jay I Robbins headed up the third flight.

Lieutenant Cornelius "Corky" Smith led the fourth and final flight of five P-38s. The extra plane apparently turned back shortly before the air battle, since squadron records specify that 16 P-38s entered the fight.

The 80th joined the B-25s, which had taken off from Port Moresby, over the Gusap area, about midway between Port Moresby and Wewak, at 8:30. At about the same time, Japanese radar would have been picking up the first signs of enemy air formations and transmitting the information to Wewak. The process was slow, and the Americans could reasonably hope for surprise.

En route to the target, the 80th Squadron P-38s and their bomber charges settled down to a relatively clear day along the northern New Guinea coast. The sky at the fighters' covering altitude of approximately 10,000 feet was dotted with only a few scattered clouds. Unfortunately, there was a ring of broken gray sky punctuated by rain squalls that favored defending fighters around Wewak.

Even worse for the Americans, three transports of the Japanese 15th Resupply Convoy happened to be in Wewak Harbor and had been assigned a heavy fighter cover of Tonys and. Oscars during unloading operations. Major Akira Takatsuki, who had commanded the 78th Sentai since it came to the theater in April 1943, led the Tonys of that unit, while other Tonys of the 68th Sentai and Oscars of the 59th and 248th Sentais completed the Japanese air cover over Wewak.

Apparently, the Japanese fighters received the warning of approaching enemy aircraft at about 9:30. Because the Americans were coming in over the coast through low, broken cloud cover, it would be a simple matter to spread the intercepting fighters out in a fan on both sides of the coast and stalk the intruders.

Cragg must have had some appreciation of that possibility, and he scanned through the sunlight filtering down from gaps in the clouds. There was scattered rain to further obscure vision, and he wished he could take the entire raiding force to a better altitude.

Corky Smith was bringing up the rear of the 80th formation with his fourth flight. The rain and heavy clouds forced Smith down to an altitude of 7,000 feet, but visibility was still so bad that the four flights had to group close together to maintain visual contact. From the seaward side of the American formation, some of the Japanese interceptors saw Smith's flight through the broken rain clouds. Even with their olive camouflage, the P-38s shimmered in the sky, which was alternately filled with showers and dancing sunlight. Four excited Tony pilots and a similar number of Oscar pilots quickly jockeyed for position and came down hard on the Americans.

Smith was just starting to climb to regain lost altitude when he looked around to see two Tonys hurtling through the rain to attack his flight. With the reflexes of a seasoned veteran, he called out the sighting to Jay Robbins, who was leading the third flight directly ahead, and turned into the Japanese. The maneuver was not quite quick enough for Smith's wingman, Lieutenant John Stanifer, who suffered some hits before the Tonys broke away. Smith himself had some difficulty with the electrical switches that released his underwing fuel tanks and spent an arduous moment using the manual release. Fortunately, the Tonys had decided to curve away before another attack.

At the same time, Cragg was encountering a formation of 78th Sentai Tonys led by Major Takatsuki. The Tonys dived directly on the American escort, but Cragg was quick enough to draw a bead on Takatsuki and fire a burst from about 200 yards. The lead was off, however, and Cragg's fire arced behind his target.

Takatsuki tried to loop his Tony as tightly as possible to get back on Cragg's tail, reaching the top of the maneuver when the second flight of P-38s came into range. Either Lieutenant Bert Reed or Lieutenant Delbert Furgason fired a shot at the Tony, which was hanging almost motionless for the moment. Strange as the coincidence seems, Takatsuki jettisoned his canopy and tumbled out of the cockpit just as Cragg was turning his P-38 directly below.

While the Japanese parachute was deploying, Cragg was unable to avoid hitting it and ripped it to shreds with his right propeller. Horrified, he watched the body of the Japanese pilot tumble thousands of feet into the misty jungle below. Somewhat shaken but still in control, Cragg looked around to keep in touch with the air battle now raging. A section of the doomed pilot's parachute was still wrapped around the P-38's right wing as a macabre reminder of the incident.

Cragg turned back toward the Sepik River, where three more Tonys and an Oscar were coming at the P-38s head-on. The first Tony came barreling in and looked like nothing more than a silver coin balanced on a knife blade when Cragg opened fire at about 250 yards. As the Tony passed him, it was pouring out flames and black smoke, and when he looked back, Cragg saw it plunge straight down like a blazing torch.

Paul Murphey and his wingman, Lieutenant Bob "Swede" Hanson, took on the next Tony. Murphey waited tensely until the target came into range and then depressed the firing button on the P-38s control wheel. The Tony rolled over at the last second and went down with a flash of fire bursting from its engine and fuselage.

Corky Smith and John Stanifer had momentarily lost contact with the rest of the last 80th flight. Smith was anxious about his pilots, with good reason. In addition to the damage suffered by Stanifer's fighter, Lieutenant Howard Donaldson had taken hits from a Tony that shot out one of his engines. He managed to pick up an escort for a time from two of the retiring P-38s, but then his other engine burst into flames. His escorting comrades could only watch helplessly while his plane went down on fire, to crash on a marshy plain about 35 miles southeast of Wewak.

Smith spotted six P-38s flying through the area and decided to join the string. Then he saw what they were after. Down on the water, just southeast of Wewak an Oscar was flying near the waves, with its jungle camouflage and red insignia marking it as a perfect target.

The Oscar was an amazingly maneuverable little fighter, as the first six P-38 pilots learned when they delved down and the Japanese plane turned neatly under them. Smith was a little cagier than the rest, and he hauled back the throttle and put his P-38's nose straight down. He cut off the Oscar and got in behind it--Smith chased the unlucky Oscar toward shore until it flew over Brandi Plantation, south of Wewak. The two planes were just 500 feet off the ground when Smith fired a long burst that registered flashes all over the Oscar's fuselage. Smith overflew the dying fighter, but Stanifer watched long enough to see it crash into the jungle.

Stanifer was low on fuel by then and radioed that he was leaving. Smith acknowledged Stanifer's call, but decided to remain in the area to clear the bomber route of stray Japanese fighters and to try to find the other members of his flight.

One of the 80th pilots who did not return from the mission was Lieutenant Jennings Myers. He had scored four aerial victories over the Wewak area on previous missions and was observed shooting down a Tony during this mission for his fifth victory. Unfortunately, he became someone else's victory before he could return to base and celebrate.

Major Meryl M. Smith of the 475th Fighter Group was returning from the mission with the 431st Squadron when he saw a P-38 in a long power glide flying north from over the land toward the ocean. He could see the right engine was feathered, but there was at least some power in the left engine that was still turning the propeller.

The P-38 then turned toward the east and flew near the shore, very low over the surf. Smith tried to call the pilot without success. The fighter in trouble had the green-and-white propeller spinners and tail tips of the 80th Fighter Squadron and was marked with a yellow letter "C" on the gondola nose. Smith later learned that the P-38 was flown by Myers.

After Myers had flown about two miles along the beach, he ditched his aircraft in the water about 50 yards from shore. It was a good crash landing, and the pilot appeared to be unhurt. As soon as the stricken P-38 settled into the water, Smith turned back and buzzed the crash site. The plane's tail was sticking out of the water, and the pilot was wading ashore. Smith could see the man was wearing his orange life vest, but his parachute must still have been in the sinking fighter. Without the jungle kit that was attached to the parachute, the man would have a devil of a time getting back-not that it would be easy even with the kit.

Smith heard the call "Gardenia from Copper" over the radio. Copper was the 80th's call sign, and Gardenia was the PBY flying boat rescue service. The Copper calls came in loud and clear, but there was no answer from Gardenia.

After about 15 minutes of flying over the area, Smith could not sight the pilot again. The downed P-38 had sunk completely, and the beach looked deserted. Myers had gone down in the Murik Lagoon region near the mouth of the Sepik River. The ground was marshy, with kunai grass and trees that sometimes reached as high as 150 feet.

Most of the surviving P-38s landed at Nadzab before heading to Port Moresby, across the mountains from Dobodura. The next day, the 80th Squadron moved permanently to Nadzab, which meant that they were nearly half as far away from Wewak. Stanifer and one other 80th pilot stayed overnight at Nadzab while their damaged fighters were repaired.

Cragg flew directly to Port Moresby, where the ground crews wondered at the shredded Japanese parachute fluttering from the wing of his P-38, marked on the nose with Porky II in yellow letters. Cragg would be bothered by the memory of the horrific incident for the rest of his short life.

Meryl Smith was also bothered by Jennings Myers' crash landing, which he reported to Nadzab Operations as soon as he landed. Later, at his own base of Dobodura, he considered the fate of the pilot he had watched trudge alone into the friendless jungle and decided he had to do something. The next morning, Smith commandeered Lieutenant Charles Ratajski, a crusty young pilot of the 475th Group's 432nd Fighter Squadron, as a wingman for a search flight back to the Murik Lagoon area. The two P-38s circled the swamps and shoreline for nearly an hour before they reluctantly gave up. Myers was never found.

Most of the damage done to the American raiders on the December 22 mission had been inflicted by the Tony interceptors. In addition to two P-38s lost and two others damaged from the 80th, another 431st Squadron fighter was so badly damaged in a crash landing at Dobodura that it was written off. The Tonys were also responsible for at least one B-25 shot down and others badly damaged. Throughout its service in New Guinea, the Tony would be a most troublesome opponent for the Americans.

American claims for the day amounted to 7 Tonys, 11 Oscars and an ancient Nakajima M-27 "Nate" that may actually have been an Oscar with its landing gear extended. The 80th accounted for six of those claims.

Actual Japanese losses amounted to four Tonys and four Oscars missing, with a similar number of badly damaged fighters returning to base. Two 68th Sentai Tony pilots, Akinori Motoyama and SgtMaj Iwao Tabata, successfully parachuted into the dense jungle and returned to base after considerable hardship. Chutai (flight) leader Motoyama died of his injuries sometime later.

For their part, the Japanese claimed seven B-25s and four P-38s shot down, and six other American aircraft probably shot down. It was a remarkably conservative total for such a heavily contested engagement. The Japanese were normally more sanguine than the Americans about the results of aerial engagements; sometimes even moderately damaged enemy aircraft were claimed as having been definitely destroyed by as many as a dozen victors.

The results of the bombing raid were considered to have been generally good, with numerous fires observed around the Wewak strip. At least three ships in the harbor were hit, and two of them were sunk. Those were the ships originally covered by the force of Oscars and Tonys that intercepted the American raid.

In terms of the extended campaign against Wewak, the raid was not as significant as the earlier ones in August that had eliminated the base complex as an offensive threat. However, the December raid did usher in a period of general decline for the Japanese base, and a series of further raids and fighter sweeps inflicted additional damage. By April 1944, the base was in the bypassed backwater of the war, too far behind Allied lines to either operate freely or be resupplied.

The 80th Fighter Squadron "Headhunters" who had participated in the raid would go on to various fates. Corky Smith ended his distinguished service with the squadron when he was ordered home in May 1944. His final victory total was 12 kills-11 Mitsubishi A6M Zeros, Tonys and Oscars and one Mitsubishi Ki-46 Dinah reconnaissance aircraft. Delbert Furgason, who may have been the victor over the 78th Sentai commander, ended his tour and was sent home in August 1944. Paul Murphey stayed on until very near the end of the war, claiming a total of six Japanese aircraft.

Major "Porky" Cragg was less fortunate. The day after Christmas 1943, he was leading another mission to cover the Cape Gloucester, New Britain, landings. Just four days after the harrowing mission to Wewak, he was seen at low altitude in bad weather on the tail of his 15th and final victory when a Japanese fighter slipped in behind him and shot his plane into the sea. He was only 25 years old."

- John Stanaway in "Lightnings Strike At Wewak," Aviation History Magazine, January 1996

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Frank Cicerello

"I had just finished reading the latest 8th Fighter Group Association newsletter and decided to see what memorabilia I had while I was with the 80th Fighter Squadron in the States and overseas during World War II. I had kept a diary in part of my service experience, it is not a daily diary, but only excerpts of events that happened. So I decided to look and see what might be useful. Thus notations from diary are as follows:

While being a member of the 60th Pursuit Squadron at Mitchel Field prior to Pearl Harbor, I was sent to Scott Field for the Radio Operator and Mechanics school and upon graduation in November 1941 returned to Mitchel Field and was temporarily put in the 91st Air Base Group and then transferred to the 80th Fighter Squadron they were forming on 11/22/41.

After joining the 80th and before 1/26/42 when the 80th boarded the troop train, normal army life continued. As I had graduated from the radio school, I spent my time on the line maintaining the radios on our P-400s.

On my first Christmas away from home, I had a pass to go into Hempstead, the closest city near the airfield. It was Christmas Eve and I wandered throughout the town just looking at the beautiful Christmas lights. On Sunday December 7, 1941, 1 had a pass to go into town. As I started to go through the gate, I was stopped by the guard on duty and was told that Pearl Harbor was being attacked by the Japanese and that all passes were canceled and that I was to return to my squadron.

A few nights later, the whole barracks were awakened sometime after midnight. We all had to line up in front of our bunks. An officer and the first sergeant asked all the men in every other bunk to go back to their bunks. Those left standing were told to pack up their gear and to be ready to be shipped out. We never did know where they were sent but rumors later had it that it was possibly the Philippines. Shortly afterwards we were informed that our squadron would be leaving for Australia and until 1/26/42 we spent our time packing up all our equipment.

Between December 7th and our sailing we had a general meeting one day and our Co and first sergeant asked if there were any men from Pennsylvania that were deer hunters. Those of us who were sent to the armory to unpack some old Springfield rifles, clean them up, and be ready to use them if necessary. Slit trenches had been dug near the end of the runway nearest the ocean. We were told that we would be the front line defenders for a possible surprise attach from the German U-boats that were operating off our coast. This never happened but ships were lost.

On January 26, 1942, we left for San Francisco by troop train from Mitchel Field, New York. I remember the long boring ride, eating on the train, and stopping occasionally for exercises while crossing the country.

They assigned two men to the lower berth and one non-com to the upper berth. The two men in the lower berth, which I was one of them, were told to sleep head to toe. After a few nights, the odor was not very pleasant, especially for me, as the guy who was next to me never changed his socks for the duration of the trip. So I remember I was very glad the trip was over.

The food was not too great. It consisted mostly of food boiled in large vats that were installed into an empty boxcar which had been converted into a kitchen. I do not remember ever eating in the dining car. At least the enlisted men did not. Maybe the officers did, but I never did know.

As all troop train trips are dull or boring, we spent our time either reading or playing cards. It certainly was not like in the movies. There was no guitar playing or singing. the conversation was how good or bad it was in Australia, and if this was a one-way trip. I think most of us were homesick but such is life, and we all got over it. The excitement was ever present. I had never been out of my small Pennsylvania town, so it was a big adventure to me and I looked forward to seeing how the rest of the world was.

On 2/12/42, we sailed on the USAT Maui from San Francisco. I remember staying on an island getting shots in preparation for the trip, and lining up for our shots. While passing through the barracks, I remember seeing many GIs laying on beds in the rooms off to the side of the hallway. Many were really affected by the reaction from them. Fortunately I was not one of them. While sailing to the island I got my first glimpse of the famous Penal prison Alcatraz.

We called the Maui the banana boat, as we had heard it had hauled bananas between the states and Hawaii. Bunks had been installed below decks 4-high which were made of netting like sailors slept on. There wasn't much room between them, but we had to put our B Bags and muzzet bag there and sleep there too. I remember you couldn't sleep on your side, only on your back. Later on it became so hot down below, we decided to make up a bed on the deck. The bed was our raincoat for a blanket in case it rained and our life jacket for a pillow. The last 2 weeks we spent on deck, one had to be careful leaving your spot for fear of stepping on your buddy.

The only entertainment on board was card playing and the navy men shooting their guns for target practice. Halfway through the trip the food freezer broke down and they started to give out free ice cream. Funny, but I don't remember them ever serving it for the first part of the trip. But from that day on they only served two meals a day. Breakfast consisted of coffee, boiled egg, toast, and oatmeal. But with no milk on board we knew of, we used canned evaporated milk mixed with water and lots of sugar and managed to eat it and later even enjoyed it. I also remember one time we were standing in line going down the stairs to the dining room, some Navy waiters were carrying some real goodies for the officers mess. They stopped going by us after we started raiding the trays as they went by us. We also heard there were some fresh oranges below deck that were being saved for the officers, so one dark night we went down to the food storage area and helped ourselves. They never did know or find out who took them. I remember the chow lines being so long (3,000 men on board) that after having breakfast, we would form another dinner line in order to make sure we got the full meal and the best of what they were serving.

On 2/21/42, we crossed the equator and everyone that could- be caught by the sailors would be initiated into Kin Neptune's Court. Initiation consisted in being hosed down with sea water and your head being shaved. Somehow, I still have my certificate of initiation in the King Neptune's court and which I finally put into my scrapbook I just finished. A lot of the men were very seasick, and the ships kept changing their courses to thwart off the enemy submarines we had heard were chasing us.

The showers below deck used only sea water and it was impossible to get lather out of our regular soap. We had to use special soap.

On 3/5/42, we anchored outside of the channel of Brisbane, Australia, the Kangaroo Country. What a relief it was to see land again after twenty-one days of sailing on the high seas. At 7:30 AM on March 6, 1942, we docked on the mainland. The Australians were glad to see us and we piled onto trucks and moved to the Ascot Racetrack grounds, where they had pitched tents over wooden floors. As there were no beds, we had to wait for army cots to be brought in.

On 3/7/42, I remember trying to learn about the Australian currency of pounds, shillings, and pence; their paper money reminded me of cigar coupons. We all were wondering when we would be shipped up to the combat area, but no one seemed to know what was going on.

On 3/10/42, we had a payday and we were paid in Australian money and we were allowed to send cables back home which surprised us. We also got passes into town. Transportation in town was by streetcars, called trams, and the town closed down at 11 PM and all day on Sundays. My first impression of the Aussie women, was that they were about twenty years behind the American women. They were still wearing real long dresses, used no makeup, and lacked good dental care. However they sure changed quickly with the arrival and the help of the Americans.

On 3/15/42, we moved to I believe Archer Field, just outside of Brisbane and into wooden barracks. After this normal Army life continued. On 3/20/42, I was assigned as a telephone operator as we had no radios to work on or maintain and very few airplanes, but first we had to lay the telephone lines.

On 3/31/42, we moved to Lowood Airfield, about 100 miles from the city. I remember I elected to drive one of the trucks rather than ride in the back and sit on the wooden benches. All the trucks were equipped with speed governors so forty miles per hour was our maximum speed. We had been told we had to protect Brisbane from the Japs. We now had P-400 airplanes to maintain. Also we heard that the 35th & 36th Squadrons were moving to Port Moresby, New Guinea. We were badly understaffed and without enough planes or equipment to make us really effective. We could not understand where all the planes and equipment were going to.

On 4/15/42, the first promotion list was posted for the enlisted men and we were advised that we would get an extra 20% of our pay for overseas duty. I had made corporal that day. Started working on the line as a radio mechanic at Lowood and was in charge of a flight of about 15 planes with two men under me to help maintain the radios. A Private Pinkerton was one of the men, the other I do not recall his name. I also was put in charge of the teletype machine as I had made the corporal list on that promotion list just posted.

On Easter Sunday we all went to the Sunday services in the town of Lowood. The town had about 10 homes and after the services the Priest took our pictures. I still have my copy. It was a nice group picture.

On 4/30/42, we had another payday and several of us rented horses from a nearby stable and I remember the one I was riding took the bit in his mouth and ran away with me holding on for dear life!

On 5/2/42, they posted the Air Mechanics rating lists. I had passed the radio operator and mechanics test with the highest test rating of anyone in-the squadron, and also had passed-the control tower operator test which I took on the spur of the moment back in the states. I was hoping for one of the ratings which would mean more pay. I eventually received a 2nd class

rating. On 10/9/42, at twelve mile strip in Port Moresby I was working on the line as a radio mechanic doing preventative maintenance.

On 11/1042, we had an air raid scare, as an unidentified plane flew over the strip at night. The searchlights could not pick up the Jap plane.

On 11/14/42, the rest of us from the 80th Squadron flew by transport to Milne Bay, New Guinea. This airfield was at the edge of the bay of water. The area was filled with coconut trees and plenty of aborigines. The airstrip was called the Three Mile strip. As the area had just been cleaned up of the Japs, there was still the stench of the dead from the nearby Jap cemetery. I remember the CO and his staff sitting around a circle of men on the ground negotiating with the aborigines and their chief to built us some grass shacks. The negotiations was in the form of canned beef, or bully beef. The shacks were to be built with palm leaves with thatch roofs.

On 11/17/429 during the day we had our first sight of three Jap planes that flew overhead at a very high altitude. They were not contested by us. On 11/29/42, a Sunday, our first bomb raid hit us at about 2:40 AM. One to three bombers, maybe Jap Bettys. They hit the next strip to us and caused a lot of excitement.

On 12/5/42, we had another air raid at 4:00 AM. We heard two planes before the alarm went off and they missed our strip again. On 12/10/42, another air raid that night. They liked to come at us at night whenever there was a full moon to see us.

On 12/17/42, we had more air raids that night. Usually at midnight, and 2:00 and 4:30 AM. I remember all of us wished we would move our camp which was at the end of the air strip and in direct line with the path of any bombs.

On 12/25/42, being Christmas, the Navy must have gotten us some special food for our big meal. We also traded and bought some booze and we had one heck of a party that day. For entertainment that day and other days, it was a constant pinochle game. We played for cartons of cigarettes which had been given to us from some agency. I also remember eagerly waiting for letters from home and any kind of reading material. We use to sit under the wings of the planes where it was cooler and shadier reading anything we could get our hands on. I remember always wanting something cold to drink, and we devised a scheme which was to tie a piece of wire on our canteen and hang it on the pet cock screw under the plane's gas tank and let the gasoline drip on the canteen. The instant evaporation on the metal canteen acted as refrigeration and it made the water colder. The pet cock was used to drain the water off the gas tanks which would collect during the hot days and cool nights.

The only other time I remember a good meal was the time that a native cow wondered through our camp and someone shoot it. What a meal we had, meat for the next three days. I remember seeing the cook running after the cow and waving his knives and waving his arms like mad to stop the cow. Breakfast usually was powdered eggs and ham, coffee, and toast each day. One time I remember seeing what, I thought was milk at the end of the line and told them to fill up my canteen cup and started to drink what I thought was milk down fast so I could get a refill. What a terrible taste as it turned out to be powdered milk.

On 1/15/43, another promotion list was posted and I made sergeant that day. On 1/17/43, we had our biggest air raid to date. They hit us with 24 bombers and Zeros. There was a mixup on the orders as to whether only the anti-aircraft guns were to be used or if our fighter planes would be scrambled. I counted only two bursts being fired. When the Japs saw no other firing and no enemy interception, the planes dropped so low that I remember standing dumbfounded and I could see the bomb-bay doors opening and the bombs falling out. When they started hitting the ground, it sounded like some giant's footsteps coming at me. All hell broke loose. As there was no opposition the Jap planes kept coming in at us time and time again. The raid lasted over two hours or so. It was almost the last of me I thought, but I remember hitting a slit trench near me and fell on top of some other guys. I guess I was so fascinated about the whole event that I kept standing up there like a fool and watching the bombs falling. I remember also something landing on top of me or another person falling on me, I never did know which. Whatever it was did not move. One guy was yelling "Let me get my A- in, let me get my A- in!" and I thought how comical it was. Afterwards I remember having a very painful backache.

The Japs had made direct hits on and destroyed two B-17s, one B-24, one P-39, and two Lockheed Hudsons, over 10,000 gallons of gas. Ammunition was exploding like mad from the ammo dumps nearby that had been hit, and kept exploding for a long time afterwards. Runways were damaged and shrapnel was flying all over the place. When the metal mesh runways were hit the pieces of the metal runway became like jagged pieces of shrapnel. They must have been using what we called Daisy Cutters. I remember seeing shrapnel go right through a truck engine, and saw that the piece of shrapnel had the words USA stamped on it. So I figured the Japs had got all our pre-war scrap metal and gave it back to us as bombs.

After the raid was over, we heard that one bomber was shot down. We also heard that the anti-aircraft gun crew was told not to fire as the fighter planes would intercept, but that the fighter planes were told that the anti-aircraft would fire and for them not to intercept. Thus confusion added to the events. I guess that is why only two bursts by the guns were heard. It was some experience laying there helpless. We had rifles, but had not yet-been issued bullet clips. When we first arrived in New Guinea each man was issued a 45 caliber pistol, but later had to turn them in for use by the infantry. I remember one time I was posted for guard duty at the ammo and gas dump and had to open a case of ammunition in order to see if the rifle was working. As I had used an old army rifle back in Pennsylvania for bear and deer hunting, I was familiar with its operation. I had never been tested at the rifle range during boot camp. Right after Pearl Harbor, the first sergeant asked for any deer hunters from Pennsylvania and we were issued rifles and we were used to protect the east coast from any submarine attacks which they expected but never came. The had dug slit trenches near the airfield and we were sent there. The rifles we used had been packed up in grease since World War I and had to be stripped down completely and cleaned thoroughly, before they could be used and even handled. Later on after I left the 80th and started flying as a Radio Operator and Gunner I did get some practice in firing 30 and 50 caliber machine guns. Also, back in the states I had the opportunity to be tested on the firing range and scored expert in the rifle and marksmanship with the 45 caliber pistol.

After the air raid, we counted between 150-200 bombs that had dropped on our position. The camp was practically demolished and had to be re-built. I remember looking into the bomb craters and thinking that a 21 ton truck would easily fit into the hole.

On 1/18/43, we had another alert at 2:00 AM, and another at 5:00 AM but only one aircraft came over and another alert at 12:00 noon with two Japs passing over. We figured they really were out to get us good.

On 1/19/43, we had another raid at 9:00 AM. Several bombers dropped a lot of bombs on us and then another alert was sounded and back to the slit trenches we went. On 1/20/43, there were no raids that day, but an alert was sounded at noontime. We were getting plenty of exercise jumping in and out of the slit trenches.

On 1/21/43, I was assigned the job of reporting unusual activities down on the airstrip. A slit trench was prepared off to the side near the middle of the runway, and I installed a transmitter and receiver radio set to report to headquarters any unusual activities. The installation included a PE75 power generator for the required power. That night, when the air raid started and when the bombs started to hit near my trench, the shock would knock out the generator and I would have to crawl out and wind the damn rope around the starting reel to re-start it. This happened more than once, I heard yelling and strange voices that seemed to me to be Japanese. Flares were being shot up in air like mad and here I was trying to report over the radio what was happening, being stopped in the middle of a transmission to have to crawl out and restart the generator.

The first raid lasted on hour and forty minutes. Another raid started and 12:00 AM and another at 2:30 AM. They dropped mostly 500 pound demolition bombs. The raid knocked out our bombers that were located there and disabled three fighters. It was the worst air-raid to date since the January 17th raid and the closest for me. While running back from restarting the generator during the raid, one blast nearby threw me back into the trench and hurt my back again.

It was impossible to finish the job of reporting as I could not get the generator restarted again, so the headquarters man and I jumped in our jeep and took off back to the squadron headquarters to finish our reporting and also to report the peculiar activity we had heard and witnessed. Whatever became of our information I never did find out. I do remember that our jeep stalled in the small river that separated the airstrip and our camp. We couldn't restart it and had to leave it there and run the rest of the way to the camp headquarters. It was no fun sitting in the middle of the runway and in the center of the parked aircraft. We figured there were at least twelve bombers and probably Jap bombers of the Betty class. Total air-raid time was three hours and forty minutes which seemed like a lifetime.

On 1/22/43 we had another raid but the bombs hit the next strip. We later heard that some Australians were killed. The Japs made three passes over us but missed our strip in the dark.

On 1/23/43 another alert was sounded, but no planes came over us that time. However after this raid it was decided to move our camp to another location a little further from the airstrip and not in a direct line with the strip. I never could figure out why they put the camp at the end of the runway. I'll admit it didn't take long to get to the line, but all the Japs had to do was come in from the bay end, lay their eggs, and continue dropping them onto our camp. There was only a small creek or river separating the end of the runway and our camp. This time we set up our camp off to the side of the strip and at the opposite side from the ammo and gas dump.

On 1/24/43 we had another raid at 3:00 AM. We did send up three P-38s to intercept. The bombers dropped three bombs on our area. When they hit our metal runways, it made projectiles out of the jagged pieces of the metal and the force of the blast would drive the jagged pieces right through a-six inch tree.

On 2/5/43 the squadron moved back to Mareeba, Australia, the northern-most part of the mainland for rest and recovery. My back and legs were bothering me considerably and I figured I must have been hurt more than I realized during the air raids. While there I started working as a radio operator. We had set up as a base unit and were sending intelligence messages to the front and rear echelons. I had a crypto man decoding and coding the messages for me to send and receive. We got a pass into the small town. It was a small country town but with real friendly people. There were some girls there and they put on a dance for us. I remember one of the first things I did at arriving at the camp was to get a young boy to go into the town and get me some ice cream if they had it. He brought back a pitcher full of it and it was the darndest tasting ice cream I ever tasted. It was made of sour cream, but boy it was cold and refreshing, something I had not had in a long time.

On 2/8/43, we got another pass to go into the town and we went to another place called Atherton where they put on another dance for us and believe it or not I met a Red Cross girl from Philadelphia, Penna. Guess it was a small world after all.

On 2/19/43, I came down with a bad case of malaria fever and my back started getting worse. I remember laying on my cot deep in self-pity. On 2/21/43, I had another attack, became delirious and could not get out of my cot. On 2/25/43 I went on sick leave and was admitted to the 2nd Station Hospital in Mareeba with one of the worse cases of malaria they had to date.

On 3/18/43 was discharged, but was back in the hospital in the afternoon with another attack. On 4/6/43 was transferred to the 12th Station Hospital in Townsville to check out my back and leg that started bothering me again. We traveled by train to Townsville by the Australian small-gauge railroad. This was about the most uncomfortable train ride I ever had. Our former CO, Major O'Conner, was with us and we enjoyed his company. We had a few bottles of spirits to ease the trip, either through the courtesy of Major O'Conner, or another GI. The Major was really a nice guy, and down to earth soldier.

On 4/10/43, 1 was transferred to another hospital in Woodstock and eventually to a general hospital near Brisbane. This was the last I saw of the 80th Fighter Squadron, although I did visit the squadron one time when I was on a flying trip.

I was later discharged from the hospital on 5/17/43 and sent to a replacement depot, and later on 5/30/43, at the request of Major Paul Deems, the CO of Headquarters & Headquarters of the 5th Air Force located at Archer Field, near Brisbane, as a Flight Radio Operator.

This was the beginning of a new career and adventure for me, for on 8/l/43, I was assigned to the flight duties as a Flight Radio Operator. Subsequently I became the radio man for General MacArthur, his Chief of Staff, Lt General Richard Sutherland, and all the General Headquarters generals, and we had been transferred to a special detachment of the Headquarters Company of GHQ. We flew C-47s, B-25s, and B-17s, and routinely flew into the forward areas of New Guinea, and all the islands north of New Guinea.

Before I started flying as a crew member, I was sent to the armament section where I was instructed in loading, handling, and stripping of the 30 and 50 caliber machine guns. For those missions into combat areas I was later awarded the Air Medal and was also promoted to Staff Sergeant by General MacArthur.

I flew with General MacArthur when he met with President Roosevelt in Hawaii. We left Australia on July 26, 1944 and arrived at Hickam Field and returned around August 1st. Also on one of the trips with the General he gave me his autograph, something he rarely did.

During my duty with GHQ, we had on board at various times most of the Generals in the SWPA. Our section also had General Kenny's B-17, named Billy. When Dr Carl Compton, the President of MIT, came to Australia to discuss the A-Bomb with General MacArthur, I flew as the Flight Radio Operator. I also have the autographs of most of the Generals I flew for.

I was on flight duty for over a year with the 5th Air Force until I returned home on an emergency furlough with the option of returning by General MacArthur.

After graduating from more advanced radio schools, I was assigned to the Ferrying Division of the Air Transport Command, where I flew as the Flight Radio Operator. We ferried aircraft overseas to Europe, South America and India. We also flew sick and wounded back from Paris under the Crescent program. I stayed with the Ferrying command until my discharge at Indiantown Gap Penna.

I guess my experiences were unique in some ways, but I thought it might be of some interest from the enlisted man's viewpoint, and not just from the combat pilots who share the majority of the spotlight, and rightly so. With them we won the war, and we enlisted men backed them up to. the hilt in whatever way we could."

- Frank P. Cicerello

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Bob Peters

"Real war experiences are always serious, can be fatal, sometimes strange, often bizarre, and later hilarious. My combat service was just like the movies. We flew mostly on dawn patrols, and sometimes a buddy would not come back. I was fortunate to serve in the famous 80th Fighter squadron of the 8th Fighter Group-the 'Headhunters.' We flew P-38s-the Twin-Tailed Lockheed Lightning. After New Guinea, we flew our fighter planes into Morotai, in the Dutch East Indies, on D plus 5. The small island is only a few miles long and was lightly defended by the Japanese. American forces had easily taken the harbor and airstrip, moved inland several hundred yards, and set up a perimeter leaving 90 percent of the island to the enemy. South, just across the strait, were the Halmaheras and 50,000 Japanese that had been bypassed and ignored by the Allies.

Strategically, we were surrounded by the enemy, making it mandatory that we get back to our island from each mission. We flew off the captured Japanese grass strip until steel matting was laid down. Our primary mission, besides survival, was to neutralize the Philippine island of Mindanao, so we flew fighter sweeps every day. The invasion of the Philippines was just a few weeks off, but, of course, we didn't know that.

Since the Japanese controlled the cities and highways of Mindanao, we had permission to shoot at anything that moved after we had cleared the airfields. In the jungles and open fields we often saw guerrillas who waved frantically. It was a great thrill to buzz and salute them.

Back on Morotai we were bombed and strafed several times every night. Our intelligence reports would say that there were about 785 Japanese on the island or maybe 845 since a few barges got through some night, etc. Never were there any reports showing as many as a thousand Japanese on our island. The Navy PT boats patrolled the strait every night, and we dive bombed the airfields across the way.

Our forces on the island consisted of small naval units at the harbor, a thin line of infantry at the perimeter, and our Air Force units-far less than a thousand men. I visited a friend that I had run into on the island, and we talked about our hometown of San Antonio. He was serving in an anti-aircraft unit.

After the invasion of Leyte was secure, my squadron island-hopped to Mindoro, the second Philippine island to be liberated. Again, we took over a grass strip, leaving the mountainous part of the island to the Japanese. From Mindoro we ranged widely across the Pacific-to Borneo, Saigon, Hong Kong, Formosa, and all Philippine islands.

Just before the end of World War II in the Pacific, the Headhunters were transferred to the Okinawa area, and I was sent home. One day on the streets of San Antonio I chanced upon my friend whom I had visited on Morotai. We traded stories, and he told me that he had stayed on Morotai until the end of the war. Then he told me about the Japanese who had come out of the jungle to surrender.

To my disbelief, he said that over 15,000 Japanese marched out and laid down their weapons. He said they streamed out for hours and included admirals in beautiful white and generals in full uniforms with dozens of medals. Do some of us lead a charmed life? It seems that the 'Headhunters' do! They could have easily pushed into the sea anytime they chose...."

- Bob Peters

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Manny Pedroso

"On 4 October, 1940, I enlisted in the Army at 39 Whitehall Street in New York City. I was sent to Mitchell Field on Long Island. 15 months later I was a proud member of the newly formed 80th Pursuit Squadron.

I had really enjoyed my tour of duty at Mitchell. Every weekend we would go to NYC. At 99 Park Ave there was a USO office that gave us free tickets to shows and stage plays.

Then came 7 December, 1941. Pearl Harbor attacked by the Japs. The radio announced that all service men were to report back to their stations.

January 1942 I was assigned to the 80th Medics. Out Flight surgeon was Lt Patrick. The enlisted men were Sgt Conway, Cpl Pedroso, Pvt Manges, Pvt Smekeo, Pvt Martz, Pvt Thompson, and Pvt Horowitz. We boarded the train at Mitchell to transport us to San Francisco where we boarded the Maui. The ship had a serious mechanical problem. We were unboarded and sent to Angel Island. While we were there, they gave us passes to San Francisco. Finally, the ship was ready, we were onboard and on our way. We formed a convoy after passing the Golden Gate bridge. We had a heavy cruiser sailing on our starboard side. The Pacific was so rough that at times the cruiser would go down below the waves then it would come back to the surface. On the ship we were supposed to sleep below deck in bunks that were six high. A majority of personnel took all their gear and set it up on the top deck. As the medics we had to maintain a sick call room on board the ship. We had quite a few cases of sea sickness.

When we arrived in Brisbane, we were divided evenly on both sides of the ship. This was done so that the ship would not go aground. When we disembarked we were taken to Ascot Racetrack until they decided where to take us. They gave us mattress covers and had us stuff them with hay form the stalls.

Where were in Australia, we were stationed on Archer Field, Lowood, and Petri. On our free time we would go to Brisbane by 2.5 ton truck, which I myself drove at times. In the pubs the liquor was rationed, so they were only open for one hour. All the service people would try to down as much as they could in that one hour.

On the 20th of July, 1942, we were shipped to Port Moresby. We disembarked at night. That was really a nightmare. We were put on trucks and taken to a camp another outfit had vacated. On the journey all we saw was devastation and bomb craters. I thought it was the end of the world. At Port Moresby it was touch and go. We were not stationed very far from the Owen Stanley mountains. It was rumored that the Japs had come across and killed a number of U.S. servicemen. Someone fired a shot from one side of our camp one night. Then someone fired from the other side. We had our own little war going until our commanding officer for the situation under control.

On 8 November 1942, the 80th moved to Milne Bay. My first night there was quite exciting. The Mess building was on a hill, and our tent was a short distance away. Washing Machine Charlie came over to drop his bombs on the strip. When we heard the klaxon horn, we rushed out to find a place below ground. In the dark we found this ditch, so we all crouched down. It did feel a bit damp, and it smelled like a garbage dump. Then we realized that we were in the drainage ditch from the Mess Hall. We never did get that smell out of our clothes, but we did survive the air raid.

Another thing about Milne Bay, all the good Japs were buried on the other side of the Strip. They had tried to make a landing just prior to our coming there. Someone had taken a bulldozer and buried them all. Also, while at Milne Bay, most of the 80th had contacted malaria.

On 6 February 1943, we went back to Australia (Mareeba) until March, then we returned to Port Moresby. On 21 March 1943 at Port Moresby New Guinea, the Jap were bombing us every night. We had dug our own trench outside our tent. When we got the warning of an air raid we would usually get out of the sack and grab our helmet and gas mask, jump into our trench and wait out the attack until we were given the all clear. Well, this time after it was all over we returned to our tent to rest until morning. In the morning when we arose, upon going outside we found a 3-foot bomb (unexploded) stuck in the ground located about 8 feet from our tent.

On another occasion, we were being transported by ship to our next base of operation. A Jap torpedo plane came in low strafing the deck. He dropped the torpedo too soon-what luck for us. Whoever was at the wheel of the ship turned to port. The torpedo went right by us. The gun crew shot his wing off and he crashed into the ocean. To my knowledge none of us were injured.

On another occasion, we were aboard an LST. There were five LSTs in the convoy. The Jap suicide planes hit the LST on our right, the one on our left, and the one behind us which was transporting the other half of our squadron. However, the guys were rescued and brought on to our base of operations.

The next time we were on a Navy attack ship. On top of the deck were different size landing craft. When we arrived at the beachhead at D+5, they lowered our ambulance into a one vehicle landing craft. I had to descend over the side on a rope ladder-a feat I had never experienced before. I made it down and drove the ambulance on to the staging area.

When we were leaving Cape Gloushester by C-47 one of our aircraft crashed. It seemed like it was always raining there. We lost two men from the Headhunters.

On another occasion we had a lecture by an officer from the Chemical Warfare Department. He explained all about mustard gas. We were all issued impregnated clothing.

One day we got a call that someone had to pick up this fellow who was down on the beach. When we arrived, we way that he had taken off his clothes and buried them in the sand. He had a leather belt around his waist with a knife in a sheath. He was really not violent, but he acted very scared. He was sent to the Hospital to be returned to the U.S.

We also lost a man in our squadron to what they call today "friendly fire." There usually were four men to a tent; two bunks on one side, and two on the other. One man had just finished cleaning his .45 caliber Tommy Gun. He mistakenly put his finger on the trigger and the GI on the other side of the tent was hit.

I spent 3 years of my life as a Headhunter. I am very proud to be a member. I was stationed in 15 different locations, starting at Mitchell Field and ending my tour at Mindoro."

- Manny Pedroso

Return to the top of memoirs.

by L.C. Bradley

"Preface-You asked for memoirs. Here they are for what they are worth. Besides the personal incidents detailed below, I remember the camaraderie, the poker games, the priceless mission whiskey, the lousy pre-mission breakfast with beady little eyes peering out of the marmalade, trying to keep the refrig operating, searching for bacon and cheese in the K-rations, Olnick's monkey, lousy Manila whiskey in 55 gallon drums, my crew chief's "bug-out" drop tank, the 60 plane rat-race over Mindoro, the lack of enemy air and finally the miserable living conditions. Best of all-I had something to tell my sons when they asked 'What did you do in the war, Daddy?' (P.S. My fighter pilot son just made BIRD COLONEL!)

I was lucky to get to fly P-38s and to get into the 80th Fighter Squadron. After flying P-40s, P-70s, and P-61s, I was fortunate to participate in the test of the P-38 as a night fighter. (Radio and radar in a center line belly tank-small ROs sat behind pilot.) This made it possible for me to volunteer for combat in the 38. A quick gunnery course at Santa Maria and I was on my way.

After my stay at Nadzab and mission to Wewak, I checked into 5th AF and was assigned to 8th Grp, 80th squadron operating out of Mindoro, PI. As a fairly senior Capt, can't say that I was enthusiastically welcomed and naturally your ability was questioned. So, Cy Homer (departing CO) gave me Asst OPs and then OPs officer. They didn't know I had a pretty good background (advanced instructor-Dick Bong and many simulated combat missions flying P-40s with Tommy McGuire and lots of night flying). Missions over Luzon were rather routine (lost Major Johnson, CO), but my biggest memory was a ditching. The Group CC (Lt Col Cyclone Davis) was assigned to the 80th. A new plane plus a new-name paint job (No Guts-No Glory) resulted in a request that no junior-birdmen fly it. Since my plane was sick, I promised to fly it the next day. After an unexciting napalm mission we neared home. I decided to give the flight a superb lesson in wave hopping. Did too good a job. The right engine spit once, then that engine dug in and then the left one went in too. I pulled it up to 300 feet-it was shaking like a bad case of the flu-so I feathered and punched the canopy, dropped the flaps, sucked the stick into my gut, impact was minor. As it slowed down I was up and running. Jumped the supercharger and then off the wing tip. Turned around and she was gone! (10 seconds at the most.) The flight circled to assure I'd made it and then continued to base. There I was in the South China Sea with a hole in my raft, and someone had swiped the plugs, fishing gear, and paddles! Thank God the shark repellent was still there. Used generously and watched it float away! There I sat; three miles from shore with my parachute in my lap (worth 6 or 7 chickens), finger in the hole, and no dry cigarettes. The PBY arrived in about 4 hours. They landed me back at base and after debriefing, I made my explanation to the Group CC. His response: 'You have a good record so forget it for now, you'll hear from me later....' Didn't sound too bad. Personal Equipment sections all over 5th AF had many, many inspections.

A couple of months later we arrived at Ie Shima (west of Okinawa) via Clark on 9 August 1945 and started combat missions over Japan. As planned we all used the personal relief tube simultaneously until heavy AAA began which ended that little stunt. After that, hostilities ceased and we had many training missions. P-47 units were being disbanded and we got new pilots to check out. On or about 20 August, Cyclone called me in and advised me that retribution day was upon me. Some Air Corps Planner had decided we needed instrument training. There were four T-6s at Clark Field to be ferried to Ie Shima and I would lead the flight. I pointed out that we were swamped with Training Command personnel and some had thousands of hours in the T-6 and were much better qualified. No soap! I would be the flight leader. Clark to Okinawa was 6:45 hours (no way we could make it). Three pilots each from other groups met me at Clark. We spent 2 days running cruise control tests-still no way to make it. Had to have additional fuel. Instructed crew chief to take out the back seat and install 55 gallon drums with a direct feed into the left wing tank. It worked! We figured we could make it if we departed from Laog (a small auxiliary field NW of Luzon). Requested a Dumbo (Air Sea Rescue B-17 with boat) to navigate as well as HELP if we ditched. ETD was 0700. After a sleepless night, we were on the runway and ready to go when the Dumbo called the tower 5 minutes out. Weather was good and after 4.45 hours we caught a glimpse of the southern tip of Okinawa. Two of us didn't have enough fuel to taxi off the runway after we landed. We refueled and each pilot departed for his respective strip. Debt paid in FULL. Ironically, those T-6s lasted about three weeks. The tricycle gear P-38 pilots ground looped them good!

Our missions over Japan were similar to the Philippine missions except we had many assignments to give top cover to destroyers, submarines, and air sea rescue CATS. After the Hiroshima and Nagasaki A-bombs, we were fragged on 18 August, 1945 to launch two 4-ship flights the next day to intercept and escort the Jap Peace Envoys in 2 Bettys painted white with green crosses to Ie Shima, then stand-by while they were loaded in a C-54 and escort them to a point approximately 100 miles south of Okinawa. Mission: stop any crazee trying to shoot them down. Bill Coleman and I each had a 4-ship flight. A PBY spotted the 2 Bettys just south of Kyushu. We intercepted and the Betty pilots foolishly tried to outrun us. We forced the planes into the selected strip and then landed sloppily in front of thousands of spectators. Stayed in our planes awaiting the call that the C-54 was ready for take off. That C-54 circled over all the heavy bomber fields on Okinawa. Every revetment had three B-29s parked in a normal one-plane parking spot. It was mighty impressive. Guam must have been empty... Think the Japs got the picture. The escort flight south was uneventful. Don't know why the 80th drew the mission, but was glad to be a part of it. It was a privilege to be a P-38 pilot with the Headhunters."

- L. C. Bradley

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Ken Lloyd

An eager 18-year-old was sworn into the U. S. Army Air Corps on his birthday, June 4, 1942 as an aviation cadet and reported to the Santa Ana Army Air Base on January 3, 1943 for Preflight School.

That is when I met some future "Headhunters": 0. J. Harris, Don (Deac) Logslett, Hugh Hatfield, and L. G. Johnson. We went through most of our flight training together graduating from Williams Field, Arizona as the class of 43-J. One of the big thrills as new P-38 pilots was flying in formation on a cross country flight with our instructor. He took us down near the deck skimming the tops of pine trees when all of a sudden the ground dropped away and we found ourselves flying in the Grand Canyon! Quite a thrill!

The four of us were assigned to a P-39 squadron based at Concord, California for gunnery training. After one month at Concord we were reassigned to Mills Field (San Francisco Airport) in December 1943, still flying P-39’s. We were not allowed to do any slow rolls, loops, etc. as the P-39’s had been losing the tail sections and or tumbling. So our gunnery training was straight and level out over the ocean west of the Golden Gate Bridge leading into San Francisco Bay. One day I got the urge to fly under the Golden Gate Bridge and did so coming back from gunnery training mission. Approaching the bridge the space between the bottom of the bridge and water below seemed to get smaller and smaller, but with about 125 feet clearance made it just fine. Later, after joining the Headhunters I found out that Cy Homer had "looped" the bridge spanning the harbor at Sidney, Australia in a by-wing trainer. It’s no wonder that "Uncle Cy’s Angels" (name painted on the nose of his P-38) shot down 15 enemy planes.

Coming in for a landing at Mills Field doing the usual "hot-dog" stuff of pulling up in a tight 360’ turn the propeller lost some oil which came back all over the windshield. Luckily I could see down from the side windows and was able to side slip between buildings to a safe landing. Little did I know at the time that the experience of not being able to see ahead while landing would happen again flying one of the P-38’s caught in that terrible storm over our base at Natzab, New Guinea, April 16, 1944.

While based at San Francisco Airport I met my future wife Evelyn Brugge. It was on a blind date New Year’s Eve 1943, which was set up by my buddy Deac Logslett.

Finally in February 1944 we were assigned to a P-38 squadron located at the Orange County Airport across the road from the Santa Ana Pre-Flight Base. This was great because my home was in Santa Ana and I got to fly over my folks orange ranch many times. I fell in love with the P-38 while working in the orange grove and watching them come overhead from time to time. Then we were assigned to a P-38 squadron based at the North Island Naval Aft Station, Coronado, California. During this time we often engaged in mock combat with Navy Hellcats and Corsairs which was fun and we thought that we did pretty good. Most probably the Navy pilots thought the same.

In March 1944 we were sent to Hamilton Field for transportation overseas. Originally we were issued cold weather gear for Europe, but then had to change for the tropics. I was on the first plane to leave for Port Moresby and felt a little lonely because the others: Harris, Logslett, Hatfield and Johnson might be sent elsewhere. The flight to Oahu took 13 hours at 150mph back then in a C-54. Then another 11 hours to Port Moresby. Happily the others arrived on the next plane. We were asked which squadron we wanted to be assigned. Luckily, we had heard that the 80th was a great outfit and chose to be Headhunter’s!

Joining the 80th Fighter Squadron on March 29, 1944 at Natzab, New Guinea we were immediately sent up in the combat ready P-38’s to get the feel of the heavily armed plane which was much heavier than the training ones. Three days later I’m flying on Capt. Robertson’s wing at 16,500’ over Hollandia escorting B-24’s and B-25’s attacking the airstrips. Our squadron led by Capt. Jay Robbins (only a Capt. at that time) encountered enemy planes and dropped tanks. A Japanese "Tony" came flashing across in front of us on fife with a long sheet of flame trailing behind. Robertson was getting ahead of me so pushed on more power to catch up and then realized-dummy! You forgot to switch from drop tanks to regular tanks. Caught up fast and flew with him as he was firing at a Tony ahead of us. All of a sudden Robertson broke off the engagement as the Tony split-S’d for the deck so I dove down after the Nip firing away. Robertson called saying he had lost a supercharger and for me to climb back up and escort him home, so I broke away and joined up with "Robby." Don’t know if either of us was successful in shooting down that enemy plane.

The Japanese had a large base located at Wewak, some 400 miles from us that needed to be knocked out. Our CO Capt. Robbins devised a plan to dive bomb them with two P38’s making the dive bombing run together in tight formation. Each plane carried 2— l000# bombs in place of belly tanks. The bomb release was just a single wire cable coming up out of the floor attached to a wooden handle. The plan was for the flight leader to pick out the target and drop his bombs and for the wingman flying in close formation to drop his bombs simultaneously. Sounded good, but when you are flying in close formation with one hand on the throttle and the other on the wheel it’s hard to find that darn handle when your leader drops his bombs. Was flying on Robbins wing. He dove down with me keeping close formation, when he dropped his bombs it took a second or two to find that damn wood handle and release my bombs. Just as I’m pulling up out of there my plane is thrown all over the sky from the explosion of Robbins bombs and I’m praying the plane will hold together. However, we made it safely back to base no worse for wear, I thought, until a crew chief called out to me and said: Lt. Lloyd did you see this?" He took me back to the plane and pointed out several large holes in the wings and twin booms from the exploding bombs. The Good Lord was watching over me as always!

Dengue Fever is a tropical disease transmitted by a little mosquito and one of those rascals sent me to the base hospital at Natzab, New Guinea. The fever lasts about a week, which is too long, as it really makes your bones ache. At first the doctors thought I had "Scrub Typhus" which is much more serious and most died from that disease. It comes from the bite of a tiny mite that lives in the tall "Kuni Grass" native to that area. Boy was I happy to get out of the hospital and back to flying. Luckily that was the only time I had to take off for illness during my tour over there.

There was a refueling base at Gushap located on the way to Wewak. During one of those refuelings I went over to a Red Cross trailer that was serving coffee and do-nuts. There was a navy pilot standing close by enjoying his do-nut and I said to myself" he sure looks familiar" and recognized Wayne Piper, one of my close friends from Santa Ana, CA. He was flying a navy "Wildcat Fighter" off a carrier some 100 miles out to sea. Did not recognize him at first as he had grown a mustache. We were able to have a short visit before having to continue on our missions.

Another mission to Wewak, after the mission where my plane was almost blown up by Robbins bombs, was to fly 16 P-38’s straight and level at 16000 feet over the target. Each plane carried two 1000 pounders in place of belly tanks. All of us dropped them at the same time Capt. Robbins dropped his bombs. That was a heck of a lot of explosives hitting at once and the bombs blew one big hole in the Japanese runway putting it out of action for a long time.

On Sunday April 16, 1944 the 80th escorted B-24’s and B-25’s on a bombing mission to Hollandia. This mission became known as "Black Sunday" because an unexpected tropical storm had descended over our base at Natzab. The tower ordered us not to attempt landing and to try for Saidor about 100 miles away. We were low on fuel and made a run for Saidor. Finally, in that driving rainstorm, we found the landing strip at Finchaven. Looking ahead was impossible and trying to see down was almost as bad as side slipped back and forth to glimpse what we could of the runway. All of us made it without crashing. Although, one of our guys confided in me 45 years later that he had missed the landing strip on his first pass and instead of going around again had done a 180 degree turn back and landed against traffic. He said he was afraid he could not find the landing strip again in that weather. Quoting from William N. Hess’ book ‘Pacific Sweep," that day the 8th Air Force lost 19 out of the 104 bombers, 5 P-38’s from the 433rd Fighter Squadron had crashed along with 2 reconnaissance aircraft. 16 men killed, and 37 more were missing. 0. J. Harris remembers sitting in Jay Robbins tent listening to all the chatter on the radio as we were trying to find a safe place to land.

Our squadron moved to Owi atoll on June 14, 1944 and 10 days before I celebrated my 20th birthday. At the age of 19 joining the 80th in March 1944 I was the youngest pilot from March 1944 until new replacement pilots arrived in May 1945. Those new pilots were probably my same age, but boy, did they ever look young! Owi is a coral atoll located about 3 miles off the Island of Biak. This brought us about 800 miles further west where we could now hit the Japs as far away as Borneo.

During the first few weeks the Japanese began nightly bombing missions over us. Our Tent was right on the edge of the surfline. The coral stretched out 50 yards before dropping off into deep water. One night the line of bombs falling were coming down the surf line heading right at us. Fortunately the first cluster of bombs stopped just short of our tent, however, the second cluster came down over our camp and into the next door camp causing havoc with many dead and wounded. Capt. (Doc) Sissman, our flight surgeon gave us a real chewing out for not using the protection of the slit trenches. Evidently the other camp did not make use of theft slit trenches for protection either. From then on we used the trenches dug the first day on Owi. There was no cover over the top, as we had nothing to use as cover. Later on some Coconut tree trunks were placed over the top for more protection. That first night’s bombing got me out of bed fast and into the slit trench. Some of us had ignored the "Red Alert" (3 rounds fired from a 40mm cannon) signaling that we were under attack and stayed on our army cots trying to sleep, believing the Nips would be going after our planes and not us. From then on we took the bombing attacks very seriously.

The 80th flew many missions during the next few months to and near the island of Ceram, part of the Dutch East Indies. On August 17, 1944 I shot down a Japanese Zero not far from the city of Amboina. Major Jay T. Robbins was leading our squadron of 16 P-38’s covering B-24’s attacking an airstrip at Amboina when we spotted some Jap planes trying to hide from us by staying close to the ground. Not having any Japs going after our bombers Robbins led us down after the enemy. I was flying "tail-end Charlie" in my flight and after each guy ahead of me could not get a shot at the quick turning Zero I finally got him.  He made the mistake of turning up towards me for a head on attack. I dove down and gave him a good long burst into his engine (had an experimental P-38 armed with 7- 50 cal machine guns instead of the normal 4-50’s and a 20mm cannon) until I had to pull up sharply because the ground was coming up fast. Kicked rudder and looked back to see the Zeke (code name of ours for a Jap Zero) burning on the deck. On returning to Owi Capt. Hill said he was right behind me and that the wing of the Zero was sawed off at the cockpit. The wing just folded and the plane dove into the ground.

The area was hilly and there were clouds hanging around obscuring the mountains at times. After pulling up I spotted a P-38 about a mile away being chased by a Zero. I headed over as fast as possible to help out, but was too late as The P-38 crashed and burned on the ground. Found out later that the pilot was Lt. Ravey who had made the mistake of trying to turn with the Jap instead of pushing everything forward to escape in a shallow climb out of there. I went after the Jap with a vengeance and he after me. We made several head on passes at each other, passing close enough once to clearly see one

another. After one pass 1 had to pull up into some clouds and broke out at free top level on the side of a mountain. Found an opening in the clouds and dove back down and found him circling below. Went after him head-on and my gun camera showed the Japanese pilot in his cockpit as our canopies crossed close together. Had to stop the tight turn and pull up into the clouds again to keep from getting into a high-speed stall at that low altitude where I would not have room to recover. Flew back down again looking for any sign of fire or smoke that would prove he was destroyed, but seeing none I rejoined the squadron. Major Robbins also shot down one of the Zero’s that same day.

Living in the jungles of New Guinea, on coral atolls, and a camp site in the Philippines does not give a lot to choose from for entertainment in our off duty hours. When locations were not on a complete "back out" status, movies would be shown whenever a new film arrived. Otherwise we played cards, read, and wrote letters home. I wrote every night I could to my future wife, Evelyn. Also, tried to write often to my folks and other family members. All this letter writing certainly helped pass the time before retiring to bed. The tent had only one light bulb and not very bright as I recall, so you would have to look close while writing or reading.

Another off duty activity at Owi was making rafts out of used belly tanks and rubber life rafts. Some of us lashed a couple of belly tanks together, put up a sail, and a rudder to float around in offshore. Returning from a mission I spotted what I thought was the raft being sailed by some of my friends. Thinking my friends were riding in it I dropped down close to the water and buzzed them, so close that the prop-wash from the propellers flipped the raft over. Later I got a "chewing out" for buzzing the Group Colonel’s raft and all pilots were told to stop any buzzing of rafts.

Mr. Charles A. Lindbergh at the direction of General George Kenney came to Biak Island in July of 1944 and stayed with the 475th Fighter group. Mr. Lindbergh was there to teach the P-38 pilots how to lean out the fuel mixtures so that the P-38’s would have a greater range. He came over to Owi and stayed with us teaching the same things about fuel mixtures. Unfortunately, I was on leave in Australia and missed meeting him on Owi. But on the way back from Australia Mr. Lindbergh was at one of the refueling bases where I had the privilege of meeting him in person. In fact I still have the "Short Snorter" he signed. Short Snorter is paper money attached together by scotch-tape from the different countries pilots fly into and then have people they meet sign on one of the bills.

With the knowledge learned from Mr. Lindbergh we were able to fly none stop from a small advanced island (off shore from where real live headhunter’s lived) some 1900 miles round trip. The mission was to hit a Japanese air base on Borneo to show the enemy we could get there with Fighter planes. The CO of the 8th Fighter Group led us. He brought us over the base at 10,500 feet altitude and "split-s’d" straight down towards the air base. The air speed indicator read 525mph and climbing as I pulled out of the dive. At that speed everything on the ground was a blur, so I gently swung the P-38 back and forth firing the guns spraying the airstrip hoping to hit some planes. Then hopped over a warship anchored in the bay and headed for home, as we did not have enough fuel. Nine and one half-hours in a "screaming P-38" can make one’s backside ache a little.

Gen. MacArthur wanted to establish a base from which fighters and bombers could attack the Philippines. He chose Morotai Island in the Halmaheras located about 600 miles west of Owi atoll in New Guinea. We had only a mile perimeter around a small bay that the navy and merchant marine ships could anchor and deliver the supplies we needed. There were several airstrips made out of steel matting that we used for runways.

Around September 1944 we moved from Owi to Morotai. As part of the Halmaheras and only occupying a small perimeter around the bay and the Japanese entrenched on other islands close by, we were under attack from their bombers at night, every night for a long time. For one month we had the distinction of being the most bombed place on earth. One of the first things we did was to dig slit trenches and cover them with 6-foot lengths of trunks cut from coconut trees. Placing them perpendicular to the long way of the trench and butted against one another gave real good protection from anything but a direct hit. After a nightly raid we noticed on the way to our strip one of the other camps had a direct hit on their latrine because the tent cover was high atop one of the coconut trees.

Long after the war my boyhood friend from Santa Ana, Tom Graham, told me that his ship had brought supplies from Australia many times to Morotai. Putting our heads together we discovered that we were both there at the same time, but did not realize this as even though we corresponded we of course could not say our locations.

Our base at Morotai was around 300 miles from the tip of Davao Gulf, Mindanao, Philippines. Therefore we were close enough to attack the Philippines all the way up to Left. On one mission our target was a Jap airfield located on the island of Cebu. Enemy planes had been giving our guys on Leyte a hard time and they needed us to destroy those Jap planes on Cebu. I had a field day strafing the airfield. It was easy, by using the puffs of dirt thrown up I "walked" the bullets into the cockpit of each plane, held the fire there until it exploded. Counted 6 planes destroyed using this method. One of our guys, Lt Anderson radioed that he had an engine shot out and was heading for Leyte that was about 100 miles away and asked for someone to cover him. I was nearby and volunteered. We got to Leyte without incident, but Lt. Anderson misjudged his landing approach and came in too "hot" and could not stop in time to avoid totaling out his plane crashing into a pile of junk at the end of the runway. Happily he was not hurt and caught a ride on a B-25 back to Morotai. After landing I taxied up to a gasoline truck to be refueled for my flight back to Morotai. While waiting for fuel a Colonel jumped up on the wing and said "son what are you doing here?" 1 explained to him what had happened. He said: "OK, get fueled up and get the hell out of here as we are expecting the Nips at any moment." Yes Sir! After refueling headed for Davao Gulf which would give me a known heading back to Morotai. Was in a "war weary P-38" that would not climb above a severe storm between Davoa Gulf and me. Had to fly through it and at the end of my ETA dropped down and broke out over Davao Gulf. The storm was raining hard with no letup. Dropped down to 300 feet heading for home. Still had not broken out of this huge storm and only 5 minutes to reach the 4000 foot mountains blocking my way to my base I decided to head east for 10 minutes to miss the mountains. Then started a shallow climb going south and finally broke out of the clouds into bright sunshine at 10,000 feet over the beautiful blue Pacific Ocean with nary an island or land in sight. By this time I’m down to 15 gallons of gas per engine, which gave me no choice but to turn on my "IFF- Information, friend or foe signal to my base that I was going down". Estimating that I went east and then south I could be near the southern islands of the Halmaheras. Flew west and in the far distance I could make out either land or a shadow on the water from the storm clouds still hanging around. By this time I’m skimming the waves heading for salvation or disaster. Approaching this unknown I can make out that it is land and not a shadow on the water. My joy is short lived as I spot a Jap landing craft under camouflage hidden on the beach and think I’m in the middle of "Flak Alley" which was a heavily fortified Japanese position south of our base. However, I’m overjoyed as I hop up over a small hill and can see my base far ahead. I immediately called the control tower, told them I was safe, and to please call the Air, Sea, Rescue (they flew the famed "Catalina Flying Boats" to rescue downed airmen at sea) and tell them I was back at the base. The next day I was told off in no uncertain terms by Capt. Allen Hilt because the tower never told Air Sea Rescue and those poor guys were out all night looking for me. Capt. Hill said in the future be sure to go personally to Air Sea Rescue and not trust the tower personnel.

Headhunters pilots were lucky to have some of the best trained ground crews and support personnel who’s devotion to duty helped the 80th attain a leading toll of enemy kills. I certainly want to thank all of you who worked so hard keeping our planes well serviced especially Sgt. Gunderman, my crew chief.

Operational accidents outnumbered the actual losses in action. One accident happened when waiting in line on the taxi strip at Moratai. The 80th was ready to take-off on a mission to Mindanao, Philippines. A P-47 squadron was taking off on the same runway from our left. At the same time the tower gave the green light to a P-38 from another squadron ahead of us. When 1 saw a crew chief standing a short distance away raise his hand to his face with a look of utter horror I guessed something was wrong. Immediately looked the same way as the crew chief and saw that the P-38 and P-47 had met head on before either could take off. They were locked in a mass of twisted metal and covered in a ball of flame. The P-38 pilot with "tricycle" gear saw the 47 and tried in vain to pull up over him, but the 47’s prop tore into the belly of the 38’s drop tanks and exploded. Our mission was delayed an hour as we had to taxi to another strip a mile away.

Another accident happened at that same landing strip and again involved a P-47. The P47’s were using "water injection" (a mist of water was sprayed into the fuel mixture to give a power boost on take offs). Sometimes this would cause an engine failure and the pilot would, it he had enough runway left, shut off the engine and brake to a stop. Most times there was not enough runway left to stop. This situation was similar where the 80th is waiting in line on the taxiway to take off on another mission to the Philippines. A couple of belly tanks come screaming down the runway by themselves. Not far behind is a P-47 sliding on its belly whizzing past us and into a dirt field where an Australian Engineer was operating a road grader. The plane stopped just short of the road grader. The Australian. jumped off the grader and onto the wing of the P-47 helping the pilot out of the cockpit. Both jumped down from the wing and ran for their lives as the plane exploded into flames setting off the ammunition. Our runway was not damaged so we took off on the mission.

It was at Moratai that we hail first hand information about what happens to a plane encountering compressibility (speed of sound), Modem day fighters are designed to go through the sound barrier, but not the P-38. Two pilots from another squadron flying through clouds got disoriented and broke out of the clouds diving straight down going so fast that their planes started to hit the sound barrier. Miraculously with the help of their dive flaps they were able to pull out of the dive and return to base. Those planes looked like some one had taken a sledgehammer and beat on the nose and engines, as the metal was all bashed in and the twin booms were twisted out of shape.

Before continuing with my WW II adventures on the ground and in the skies over New Guinea, Dutch East Indies, and the Philippines let me attest to one overwhelming feeling I have. If it were not for grace of our Lord God and his Son Jesus guiding and protecting me through all those 102 combat missions 1 surely would not have made it home. Saying the Lord’s Prayer over and over certainly helped give me the faith and courage to do my duty to God and country. Thinking back some 55 years to when all this happened seems like a dream, but all those adventures are real and I shall always be grateful for being a Headhunter and flying that wonderful P-38!

The October 1944 landing by American forces retaking the island of Leyte in the Philippines gave the 475th Group an airstrip at Taclobin. The Japs came in one night and destroyed most of the 475th P-38’s. They needed replacements fast to defend their airstrip from enemy bombers. We were at Morotai 500 miles away and the closest P-38’s available. So the powers at be had us fly our P-38’s up to Leyte to replace those lost. Because Taclobin was still under fierce enemy attack we were directed to a small dirt field about 15-20 miles south of Taclobin where the planes would be safe. After landing there was no transportation for us back to Taclobin and by this time night had fallen. We were walking along a dirt road next to Leyte Gulf when the Jap bombers came in and started dropping phosphorous bombs. These bombs are set to explode in the air to spray the phosphorous over a wide area setting many fires such as those used to burn up the 475th P-38’s. Our best protection if a bomb exploded over us was to jump into the bay and keep under water to escape the burning phosphorous. Fortunately the bombs coming down stopped just short of exploding over us. While at Taclobin I was able to find Pvt. Barrisford Gayan, a boyhood friend in Redondo Beach, CA. We had a nice visit together before rejoining the squadron for a flight in a B-25 to Palau where we stayed the night. The Seabee’s fed us royally which was a break from our normal rations.

From Palau we flew to Numfoor Island where we stayed for 3 weeks getting supplied with brand new P-38L’s. This was a thrill because I now was assigned a P-38 of my own that had my name, Lt. K. B. Lloyd, Crew Chiefs name, Sgt. Gunderson, and a Japanese flag (for the one confirmed kill) painted on the side of the plane just forward of the wing and cockpit. Also painted on the nose was a picture of a beautiful girl that I named "DARK EYES" after my fiancée, Evelyn Brugge. Little did I suspect that in three weeks I would have to bail out of that beautiful P-38 during a nighttime battle with the Japanese Fleet off the Island of Mindoro.

With Leyte secure the next landing in the Philippines was in December 1944 was on the lsland of Mindoro. The 8th Fighter group moved near the town of San Jose on the southern end of the island. Our airstrip was just dirt with no paving or steel matting to make takeoffs and landings safer. The strip was located close to a bay where LST’s and larger ships could anchor with supplies. We arrived at this place one week after the U. S. Army had invaded the island so the Japanese attacked us often. Lt. Anderson got his picture published on the front page of the L. A. Times when he crash-landed his P-38 in the taxi area next to the strip. He received bums on his head, hands and arms. My folks sent me a picture they cut out of the Times thinking it might be one of our guys.

From Mindoro we could now cover all of the northern Philippines, Formosa (Taiwan) and the China coast.

Everyone kept a steel helmet near by in ease of attack and we pilots kept our helmets in a small baggage compartment in one of the twin booms of the P-38. One evening just at dusk we were attending a pilot’s meeting when out of the sky we heard the unmistakable "shrill" of a large bomb falling towards us. There was a ravine just 100 feet away and those close enough jumped into the ravine. Others like me only had time to fall fiat and cover out heads with our steel helmets. The bomb exploded only 50 yards away and shook the ground so bad that it lifted our bodies up and slammed them down hard. Fortunately no one was injured except the Group CO who hit his head diving under a jeep. The Jap plane either was either very high up or coasted in without power because none of us heard any engine sounds. In any case that Nip didn’t miss us by much!

The Japs still had plenty of planes on Luzon and other islands we had bypassed so we were under attack much of the time for the first few weeks. The Kamikaze attacks were often. As I headed out on a mission to cover a convoy of freighters bringing supplies to us my hydraulic system went out. The control wheel felt like trying to steer your car without power steering, real stiff. On sighting my field and pumping down the landing gear by hand I saw the 3 bursts from the 40mm gun indicating we were under attack again. Not wanting to be caught with the gear down I began pumping it up as fast as I could and watched as a Jap kamikaze was down on the deck heading for an Liberty Ship anchored in the bay. A P-38 was right on his tail firing away trying to shoot it down before it could reach its target. Finally the P-38 did shoot down the kamikaze just before it reached the ship, but it hit the water and bounced into the ship and exploded. The shore batteries were firing everything they had at the kamikaze and in the heat of battle some of the gunners mistook the P-38 as an enemy and were firing at it setting the plane on fire. The P-38 pulled up and the pilot bailed out, however his parachute did not open and he was killed. John C. Stanaway, author of "Attack and Conquer "a History of the 8th Fighter Group in World War II told me that heroic P-38 pilot chasing the kamikaze was Capt. James Moss of the 36th squadron. About December 15th 1944 an oil tanker was hit by a kamikaze and set on fire about 3 miles off our coast. It continued to bum with fury for 3 weeks until all the fuel was expended.

During the first few weeks we were covering convoys against kamikaze attacks or defending our turf. On one mission we spotted a zeke on the deck heading for the Navy convoy, and as we started to go down after him the Navy called us and told us to stay away. They were going to fill the sky with flak in a box pattern one mile square and soon the area over the convoy looked like it was solid black in color. Naturally we stayed well away while watching for any planes trying to escape the box pattern. The Navy did a good job as no Nips got through that day.

On December 26, 1944 after returning to base from flying a long mission covering another convoy I arrived back in camp just in time for a pilots meeting. We were told that a PBY flying boat had spotted a Japanese task force consisting of a heavy cruiser, light cruiser, and 6 destroyers just west of Mindoro heading right for us. The Japanese were bent on retaking our position by sending troop ships down from Manila. There were no American warships in the area to challenge the Jap fleet. B-25’s were dispatched to sink the troop ships from Manila. Also, all ground personnel were told to expect an attack by Jap paratroopers. Having flown all day my name was not on the list of pilots chosen for the mission that night against the Japanese task force. However, one of our pilots begged off saying he had a sinus problem and could not fly. Capt. C. B. Ray called out my name and I was added to the list of pilots. The plan of attack was for two planes to take off in formation with running lights on and go together to the target. I can remember sitting under the wing of one of the P-38’s with Capt. Paul Murphy sweating out the order to man our planes and hoping the Jap nightfighters didn’t attack until after we could take off.

The order was given for us to man our planes and take off in twos. I was flying on the wing of Lt. Jenner, but in the black of night with only running lights to guide us we became separated. Getting to the Jap fleet was fast as by this time they were only a few miles off shore. You could follow the tracer bullets very well at night and it looked like a swarm of bees with tracers from both sides coming in all directions. As I was making my attack another P-38 slid across just under my plane, missing by only a few feet. The superchargers glowed red hot as the P-38 slid by. The moon had come out from behind some clouds that gave me the idea of dropping down to the deck to attack the ships "silhouetted" by the light from the moon. Skimming the wave tops I began my attack and found out quick that with those 4-50cal and 20mm cannon nose guns firing at night was like trying to see through a ball of fire. All of a sudden my plane took a move to the left and seawater was coming over the canopy. Didn’t know if the plane had been hit by enemy fire or had I hit the crest of a wave. Anyway the plane bounced up to 450’ with the left prop wrapped around the nacelle and the left wing tip rumpled back about three feet. I immediately pushed hard right rudder and pulled off the power on the left engine before it could explode and pushed on full power to the right engine. Cranked full right trim,, but still felt like I was standing on full right rudder to maintain direction. The plane was shaking something terrible but kept flying as I headed back to base. Came over the strip at 450’ only to see another plane burning in the middle of the runway. Trying to land a P38 on single engine is no fun under ideal conditions, but it was nighttime, no runway lights and not enough room to land with the other plane burning on the strip. Decided to bail out, but would need a lot more altitude to give the chute time to open. Because of the damaged plane it took a long time circling the field to climb up to 2500’. After what seemed to be 30-40 minutes I released the canopy and slowed the P-38 down to 80 mph in order for my body to slide off the wing and go under the rear stabilizer. It was really noisy and windy without the canopy as I tried to go out on the left side. In doing so all I got was a mouth full of coolant from the damaged engine and she started to roll to the left. Jumped back into the cockpit and leveled her up and then dove out the right side trying to hit my head on the wing knowing that I could not strike my head because of the air stream blowing across the wing. Luckily my body fell under the rear boom and I found myself floating in a beautiful cloudy moonlit sky, but kind of eerie after all that noise from the cockpit. Sadly, watched my plane explode and burn as it crashed about a mile away.

Approaching the ground the chute must have fallen through a planes "prop-wash" because it started me swinging up and down like a schoolyard swing. The ground came up fast and because of the swinging back and forth I landed right on shoulders and neck in a plowed field that helped soften the blow. Even so it felt like every bone in my body must be broken. Lay there on my back expecting either our troops or Jap paratroopers to challenge me, but none did so I checked myself over and was very happy to find no broken bones, just some bruises. Sat up and lit a Phillip Morris still expecting someone to challenge. With the base under attack and expecting Japanese paratroopers I had to make plans for escaping if necessary. Cut the chute away from the "jungle pack" to use it as cover against mosquitoes and other bugs. Kept the rubber raft in case I wanted to try for another island. Needed to travel light so left the jungle pack, but kept the combat knife, 45-cal side arm, and canteen.

Started walking towards the bay passing deserted camp after camp. After about a mile the command "halt" came out of the darkness. The sentry asked who goes there and I identified myself as a pilot with the 80th Fighter Squadron. He led the way to an "ack-ack" battery located beside the bay where they sat me down on a cot and gave me some water. Seeing the parachute they asked: "are you the one we just saw coming down in a parachute?" I said yeah, I guess so. Then they told of watching the ack-ack battery across the way firing everything they had at me thinking I was a Sap paratrooper. Fortunately their aim was poor or at least I didn’t hear any bullets whizzing by. One of the ack-ack guys took me back to the airstrip, which took about 20 minutes. Upon arriving back at the strip everyone had departed, because of the shelling, except a gasoline tanker that was leaving so I jumped aboard as he headed towards the 80th camp. We were following a troop convoy of 2-ton army trucks when all of a sudden the troops started scrambling out of the trucks as a Jap night fighter started strafing the road. The driver jumped out and I tried to get out too, but my left foot was caught in the parachute shrouds. Here I am one foot on the ground the other in the cab as I try to free it from the chute. Finally freed it and dove into the ditch at the side of the road. After about 10 minutes the troops got back into the trucks, figuring the nightfighter had left the area, and the whole convoy proceeded north going away from the airstrip which was under attack. This road went right passed the 80th’s camp where the driver stopped and let me out. Went to my tent finding only L. G. Johnson there. Both 0. J. Harris and Hugh Hatfield were on the mission with me and D. J. Logslett was on leave visiting a cousin at another island. Dumped the gear by my bed and laid down resting thinking here was one lucky guy!

0. J. Harris had a harrowing experience none of us will ever forget. He came in to strafe a destroyer when he received a jolt, which threw his head up against the gun sight stunning him momentarily. Recovering from shock he realized his left engine was on fire and then he says he heard over the radio "that P-38 on fire is high enough to bail." So Harris figured he was that P-38 and released the canopy and started to climb out onto the wing when he realized that he had not fastened his parachute harness to his legs (some pilots undid the parachute leg straps for more comfort when flying). He had to crawl back in and fasten them then dove out hoping to miss the dreaded rear stabilizer. Clearing the plane he pulled the "rip-cord" and as the chute fully opened his feet were in the ocean surrounded by the Japanese fleet. After disengaging himself from his chute he started swimming away from a destroyer nearby, taking his rubber raft with him. When he turned on the valve to inflate the raft the hiss was so clear and loud that he had to turn it off until the destroyer was out of hearing distance. After finally getting the raft filled with air he started to climb aboard when another destroyer came bearing down on him so he had to flip the raft over hoping it’s blue bottom would hide him from being spotted by the Nips. The destroyer came so close that he was dragged along side as it passed. He could hear the enemy talking on the ship above as his raft slid by. Harris was a big strong guy and started paddling towards shore when the fleet finally went away. The ocean currents were carrying the rubber raft past the island so he started paddling like mad and finally got close enough for someone on shore to spot him. They sent out an amphibious "duck" to rescue our guy. Happily Harris had no injuries other than the bump on his head where it hit the gun sight.

All the pilots from the 80th fighter squadron who flew on that nighttime mission against the Japanese task force were awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

On the morning of December 30, 1944 the 80th lost one of my best friends, Lt. L. G. Johnson. He was having trouble with one of the engines on his plane and had been working with his crew chief trying to solve the problem. Taking off on another mission, I could see that a plane had crashed in the bay and a fife burning on the water. Presumed it was one of our planes, but did not find out who the pilot was until landing and parking the plane my crew chief hopped up on the wing and said: "Did you hear about Lt. Johnson?" Everyone was saddened at his loss, especially those of us who had been with him all through training and combat.

Harris and 1 were given 10 days R&R in Sidney, Australia to help us recover from our narrow escapes. We went to the nearby bomber strip to bum a ride to Sidney. Upon entering the operations tent 1 was surprised to meet a Navy flier that shared his room with me in the BOQ located at the naval air station on North Island, San Diego, California A P-38 squadron based there for combat training and air defense. Unfortunately 1 can’t remember his name, only that he was one big man! Stood over 6’3" tall and must have weighed 220#. He flew the Navy’s version of the B-24.We got along great while sharing a room for a month at the BOQ and happy to meet again. He offered us a ride south, which we gratefully accepted. He let me stand up behind him observing the actions in the cockpit area as he started the plane down the runway. Not having flown in a B-24 before it was an experience not soon to be forgotten. This large person at the controls was fighting like heck kicking rudder, and working the wheel to keep the bouncing plane going straight down the dirt runway and finally he got it airborne. I said a silent prayer thanking the good Lord for making me a fighter pilot.

Clark Field was an American airbase just north of Manila and was captured by the Japanese in 1942. Around the middle of January 1945 the American forces liberated Clark Field. Then we started retaking the rest of Luzon including Manila. The Japs also captured the island of Corregidor located at the entrance of Manila Bay in 1942. When the Americans retook Corregidor the 80th was flying air support during the landing of our forces. It was quite a view from 5000’ seeing all those ships and landing craft coming ashore. No enemy planes challenged us so we had an easy mission.

Not knowing if the Japanese had any serviceable aircraft left on Luzon we started running missions over their airfields. On one of these missions to check out some airstrips in southern Luzon I spotted one and dove down, with my wingman, to get a closer look. After passing over the strip checking for any camouflaged planes I looked back to see my wingman’s plane lose all of oil out of his right engine. Called him to let him know that he had lost oil from his right engine. He replied: "yeah, and you lost the coolant in your right engine." We turned off the damaged engines feathering the props and climbed up to 5,000 feet cruising home at 190 mph on single engine. Hoping that we would not encounter any enemy aircraft on the way home. After landing safely and parking the planes the crew chiefs found one 3ocal-bullet hole in the oil line of my wingman’s engine and one 30cal-bullet hole in the coolant line of my engine. Some Jap shooter was either very lucky, good or both to have knocked out our engines. Needless to say we both were very happy and grateful not to have been shot down over enemy territory.

During the months of February, March, and April 1945 the 80th made several missions to Formosa (Taiwan) covering B-24’s. The Navy had some submarines stationed off the coast waiting to rescue any of us that might be shot down. Many missions to the northern part of Luzon, on some escorting bombers and others strafing. The 80th also flew cover over the concentration camps near Manila as they were retaken and the captives freed after several long years’ of imprisonment.

After 15 months of combat missions I received orders to go to Leyte and board a ship for the good old USA. 0. J. Harris ,D. J. Logslett, Hugh Hatfield, and William Underwood received the same orders for home. On May 15, 1945 we boarded a Navy supply ship that had a well-stocked galley, bunk beds, and officers lounge where fresh coffee was served all day. For a bunch of guys that were living in tents for the past 15 months eating "bully beef and dehydrated spuds" this ship was like "hog heaven." Taking a zigzag course back to the USA to avoid any Japanese submarines took 19 days. What a sight it was to see that beautiful Golden Gate Bridge as the ship sailed under it into San Francisco Bay! Five days later Evelyn and I were married in Christ’s Church, Alameda, California and this year celebrated our 55th anniversary.

To those men who served with me during our tour with the 80th Fighter Squadron I shall always be grateful for their friendship, guidance and covering each other in combat. Blessed with top notch CO’s like Major Jay Robbins and Capt. Cy Homer, and the other CO’s before them our squadron became known as the "Headhunters" one of the squadrons most feared by the Japanese pilots. Tokyo Rose (a woman broadcasting over the radio in English) often mentioned us in her nightly broadcasts trying to ruin our morale. But we all just laughed at her feeble attempts. Guys like Paul Murphy, Louis Schriber, Herschel Barnes, Jenner, Peters, 0. J. Harris, Hugh Hatfield, Don Logslett, L.G. Johnson, Allen Hill, Francis Harvey, Damon, Orin Anderson, Doe Sisman, Gunderman, C. B. Ray, Ken Ladd, Caldwell, Sheehan, Rusty Roth, Stanifer, Ravey, Dwinell, Henkes, Endres, Underwood & Chambers, and all the others, who’s names elude me, were just young American’s who loved flying the P-38 and damn proud of being a Headhunter! The 80th Fighter Squadron was credited with 225 victories, second highest in the South Pacific and the Philippines, and the first to shoot down 200 enemy planes.

- Ken Lloyd

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Matt Notz

Pearl Harbor was under attack. World War II reached the shores of the United States. The 8th Pursuit Group was on alert and ready. It consisted of the 33rd, 35th and 36th Pursuit Squadrons.  

The 8th Pursuit Group was activated at Langley Field, VA in 1931. Headquarters issued orders and the Group made its first move in 1940. At this time the Group was flying P-40 and B-10 airplanes. Movement of all people and airplanes to Mitchel Field, Long Island, NY was complete by 4 November 1940. The Squadrons, after setting up operations and maintenance sections, were ready for all missions. A month later they were participating in the Louisiana Maneuvers.  

The Army Air Corps was in the middle of an expansion program. New Groups and new aircraft began appearing on the Base. Receiving new P-39 airplanes, the Group started familiarization training and flying submarine patrol. On 20 June 1941, the Army Air Corps became the Army Air Forces. The 35th Pursuit Squadron began using the airport at Providence, RI as a temporary base for patrol missions. On 7 December 1941 the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.  

Adding to all of this, orders reached the Group to form a new squadron. Transferring pilots and mechanics from all three squadrons, the 80th Pursuit Squadron was born. The Squadron got its start on or about 6 January 1942. Its first Commanding Officer was Philip Greasley of the 33rd Pursuit Squadron. In the meantime, the 33rd Pursuit Squadron shipped to Iceland aboard an aircraft carrier for patrol duty.

 The 8th Pursuit Group, now made up of the 35th, 36th and 80th Pursuit Squadrons, received orders to move to the West Coast. We said our good-byes and boarded a special train for San Francisco. The Group departed Mitchel Field, NY on 26 January 1942. They arrived at the docks in San Francisco 4 days later. An old Matson liner, named Maui, was waiting at the docks for the Group to board. Everything went fine until the engines refused to perform satisfactorily. The Group then debarked and moved to Angel Island for a short stay. On the 12 February 1942, the group again boarded the Maui. While passing under The Golden Gate Bridge, voices broke out chanting, “Golden Gate in 48.”

 The Maui docked in Brisbane, Australia, 5 March 1942. A fleet of trucks transported the Group to Ascot Racetrack. After stuffing sacks with straw, we went to sleep on the ground, but sand fleas kept us awake most of the night.

 Crews unloaded and transported P-39 planes to Amberley Field where assembly took place. A P-39 had the pilot riding astride the propeller shaft. The plane would shimmy and shake creating a fuss, what a racket in this grand old bus. Moving to Archerfield Field, the 80th Pursuit Squadron received the assembled planes and began training.

 The 35th and 36th Pursuit Squadrons, receiving equipment, packed and moved to Lowood, Queensland for training. Shortly thereafter the two Squadrons moved to Northern Australia. On the 20th April 1942 the Squadrons moved to 7 Mile Strip, Port Moresby. Japanese planes controlled the area and it took the Squadrons a very short time time to become veterens.

 The 80th Pursuit Squadron then began its endless wanderings. The ground eschelon moved to Lowood on 28 March 1942. Within six weeks the Squadron moved again. Our next base was Petrie Airdrome, an airstrip 15 miles east of Brisbane, Australia. New planes began arriving and the Squadron received P-400 Cobras, the English version of the P-39. We continued familiarization and training on the new planes for the next 8 weeks.

 Training pilots for duty in New Guinea and enjoying Australia soon came to an end. The 80th Fighter Squadron received orders to move to New Guinea. An advanced detail, later known as, The Dirty Thirteen, became the Squadron’s first members to experience combat. The detail consisted of thirteen pilots, ten crew chiefs, twelve P-400 Cobras, armament and radio people. Our transportation consisted of one C-47. The plane with its load of maintenance crews, toolboxes and aircraft parts made use of every inch of runway. During take off the plane reached the end of the runway with the wheels still on the ground. We sighed with relief as the plane staggered into the air. The Advanced Detail was on its way to Port Moresby, New Guinea on 17 July 1942.

 The C-47 flying up the East Coast of Australia left behind old buddies, the purloined train and the Ipswitch Barracuda. We landed at Cairns, Australia, prepared the P-400 Cobras and turned in for the night. The detail then flew on to Port Moresby, New Guinea. We landed at 7-Mile Strip on 18 July 1942, and prepared the planes for the next day. Suddenly three shots rang out. Not knowing where to go, we dropped to the ground. Japanese bombs hit the 36th Fighter Squadron area of the Strip. One person died in the raid and two wounded by shrapnel.  About 20 July 1942, the squadron lost Pinkie Hunter, shot down by a Japanese gunboat.

 The Japanese bombed regularly. Raids became known as, “Dr Pepper Raids,” dropping bombs at, “10, 2 and 4.” During the night they sent, “Wash Machine Charley,” over to harass us, dropping a bomb here and there. The raids kept us in the slit trenches for hours.

 Jackson Airdrome  (7-Mile Airstrip) was our first combat base. About the 25 July 42 our next base of operations was 14 Mile Airstrip. The 39th Fighter Squadron provided us with food and housing. On 4 August 1942 General Kenney replaced General Brett as Commanding General of Air. On 7 August 1942 the US Marines made a landing on Guadalcanal.

 One can never forget our bases hacked out of the jungle with such names as Three Mile, Four Mile, Seven Mile, Twelve Mile, Fourteen Mile and Seventeen Mile Airstrips. Naming the airdromes with mileage names corresponded to their distances from Port Moresby.

 The 80th Fighter Squadron air echelon then moved to 12 Mile Airstrip on 10 August 42, where the ground echelon joined us. Japanese planes greeted them as they got off  the ship on 12 August 1942. First victories for the 80th Fighter Squadron came on 26 August 1942, when a flight of P-400 Cobras shot down six Japanese planes over Buna.

 Japanese Marines then landed at Milne Bay, New Guinea on 27 August 1942. The 35th and 36th Fighter Squadrons helped to repel their advance. The Japanese Marines and ships withdrew on 29 August 1942, leaving hundreds of dead behind.

 The 5th Air Force formed on 3 September 1942  with General Kenney as Commanding General.

 After the losses during the Coral Sea Battle, Japanese Forces decided to take Port Moresby, New Guinea by  land. Crossing the Owen Stanley Mountains, Japanese Forces broke through and forced the Aussies Forces back. U.S. pilots were on alert to fly the planes back to Australia. An Australian friend watching the activity just smiled. The thought of being stranded in the jungle did not seem right. I asked the Aussie what he would do. He said, "I'll tell you  what Yank, just bugger up the gear and piss off in the bush."

 The US Army 32nd Division arrived at Port Moresby on 15 September 1942. American and Australian Infantry stopped the Japanese advance 22 miles from Port Moresby on 26 September 1942.

 During October 1942, the 80th FS flew escort and strafing missions, softening up the Buna area for invasion.

 The 80th Fighter Squadron received orders to move to Milne Bay, New Guinea. We then  boarded a ship and arrived at Milne Bay 8 November 1942. The Squadron loaded onto trucks just as the air raid gun sounded. The raid was soon over and we continued on to our campsite. On this date, the three 8th Fighter Group Squadrons were in the same vicinity for the first time since leaving the States. The Pilots flew escort and strafing missions for the next few months. Ingram (Coon Dog) Conner replaced Phil Greasley as Commanding Officer, 20 December 1942.

 Japanese planes attack the 80th Fighter Airstrip (Turnbull) with 25 Betty Bombers on 17 Jan 43. The bombs destroyed almost everything. Luckily there were no causalities. We found out how a grasshopper feels with a lawn mower coming directly at it.

 In January 1943, most of the 80th Fighter Squadron was in the hospital with malaria. Partial crews kept the Squadron operating at 100%. On 3 February 1943, the Squadron moved to Mareeba, Australia for rest, recreation and to receive new planes. To everyone’s satisfaction, the Squadron received the P-38 Lightning. Experience we had gathered helped us to maintain and fly the new planes. After tasting milk, beer and seeing new movies, we got ourselves ready for another move.

 A small advanced detail of pilots, maintainers and airplanes returned to Port Moresby, New Guinea on 31 March 1943. On 4 April and again on 8 April 1943, command of the 80th Fighter Squadron changed. On 11 April 1943 the Squadron scored their first victories in the P-38. They intercepted the enemy over Oro Bay and destroyed 4 Japanese planes.

  After a short training period at Mareeba, Australia, the 80th Fighter Squadron flew back to Port Moresby, New Guinea on 12 April 1943. As we approached Port Moresby, a Japanese bomb raid was is progress. Landing at Four Mile Strip (Wards Drome), the Squadron later moved to Three Mile Strip (Kila Drome), our home base for the next eight months.

 The new Commanding Officer of the 80th Fighter Squadron was now Edward Cragg. On 21 May 1943 the Squadron on an escort mission destroyed 6 Japanese planes. One month later on 21 June 1943 the Squadron escorting B-25 Bombers destroyed 13 Japanese planes over Lae, New Guinea. General MacArthur wired his congratulations to the entire Squadron. Great feelings prevailed in the Squadron to know the air above us was secure. The 80th Fighter Squadron would go on to become known as, “The Headhunters.”                                                                    

 Supplies and equipment began arriving in the Southwest Pacific Area. Squadrons shuffled rosters and divided to form a new all P-38 Fighter Group. A cadre of the 475th Fighter Group was waiting at Amberely Field, Australia. Those picked for the new Group began arriving Amberley Field about 26 June 1943. People from the 49th Fighter Group reported to the 431st Fighter Squadron. People from the 8th Fighter Group reported to the 432nd Fighter Squadron. (50% of the key personnel in the 432nd came from the 80th Headhunters.) People from the 35th Fighter Group reported to the 433rd Fighter Squadron.

 On 28 June and 6 July 1943, the 80th Fighter Squadron flew to Goodenough Island to cover a Task Force. Returning to Three-Mile Airstrip the Squadron flew escort missions through 29 July 1943, resulting in 31 Japanese planes destroyed. The Headhunters destroyed 28 Japanese planes during escort missions through 2 September 1943. During the landing at Lae on 4 September 1943, the Squadron accounted for 11 more of the enemy. From 13 September to 26 September 1943, the Squadron shot down 14 Japanese planes.

 In New Guinea, our Ground Forces were consolidating positions along the north coast. To our east, Allied Ground Forces were island

hopping through the Solomon Islands. The stronghold on northern New Britain was directly in their path and would soon feel the fury of a 5th Air Force attack.

 On 11 October 1943, there was a briefing at Headquarters. The next target was northwest New Britain, RABAUL. More than 300 bombers and fighters left their New Guinea bases and headed for northern New Britain. Japanese airfields and planes on the ground took severe damage. The 5th Air Force carried out a series of these raids until 7 November 1943. One purpose of these raids was to neutralize this Japanese stronghold. They also gave support to our forces in the Solomon Islands.

  From 12 October until moving day, the 80th Fighter Squadron shot down 35 Japanese planes. On 24 October 1943, Jay Robbins destroyed 4 enemy planes giving him a total of 11 Japanese planes shot down in 3 separate engagements. The Squadron moved to Dobodura, New Guinea on 11 December 1943, where they became temporarily attached to the 475th Fighter Group.

 The invasion of southeast New Britain started 15 December 1943.

 Daniel T. Roberts was lost on the 9 November 1943. He flew for the 80th and 432nd Fighter Squadrons.

 The 80th Fighter Squadron went through some trying times starting 24 February 1944. The Squadron moved to Cape Gloucester, New Britain with new planes. It took them from 12 March to 25 March 1944 to move to Nadzab, New Guinea. On 30 and 31 March 1944, the Squadron escorted bombers to Hollandia, New Guinea. They destroyed 14 enemy planes, bringing the Squadron total to 185 confirmed victories. Escorting bombers on 3 and 12 April 1944, the Headhunters destroyed 18 more Japanese planes. On the 12 April 1944 mission, Richard  Bong shot down 2 enemy planes. His total planes destroyed were now 27. This brought the Squadron total to 203 enemy planes shot down in combat.

 Because of unavoidable delays, it took the 80th Fighter Squadron from 14 May 1944 until the middle of June to move to the island of Owi. The first mission from Owi was an escort mission to Jefman Airdrome resulting in 3 victories. July 1944 brought on a new phase of operations, air support for ground troops that pleased the ground commanders. During July 1944 the medics reported 18 cases of typhus. Escort missions to Halmehara Islands on 27 July 1944 and 17 August 1944 resulted in seven more victories.

 It took the 80th Fighter Squadron from 16 September to 6 October 1944 to move to Morotai Island. On 4 October 1944 the Squadron changed command. During October 1944 they flew escort missions. On 10 November the Squadron flew top cover and destroyed 2 enemy planes. The Squadron then gave up most of their planes and waited for a new type of P-38.

 The 80th Fighter Squadron Aviators and Maintainers went separate ways in November 1944. The next 4 weeks were very frustrating and memorable. Most of the Squadron’s planes went to the 49th Fighter Group in Leyte, Philippines. In December 1944 most of the Squadron boarded an LST (Landing Ship) and headed for Mindoro Island in the Philippines. The LST came under attack by a kamikaze bomber on 12 December 1944 and sunk as it approached Mindoro Island. On 19 December 1944, the complete 80th Fighter Squadron was together again at Hill Field, Mindoro Island.

 The Squadron flying P-38L’s on patrol engaged the enemy and destroyed 6 planes. On the next day, 21 December 1944, the Japanese lost 3 more planes. The day after Christmas a Japanese Task Force approached Mindoro Island. In the battle the Japanese lost three ships. They also shelled both airstrips making them unserviceable. On 29 December 1944, the Squadron flying cover for a convoy shot down 2 Japanese planes. A mission on 30

December 1944, accounted for another Japanese plane destroyed. This brought the 80th Fighter Squadron total to 224 Japanese planes destroyed in combat.

 The Army and Navy Air Forces attacked Japan from all directions. Japan was taking a tremendous pounding. On the 6 and 9 August,

B-29's dropped Atom Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

 The 80th Fighter Squadron flew fighter sweeps and patrol missions from January 1945 through July 1945. On 29 May 1945 the Headhunters flew mission number 1000. The Squadron completed the move to Ie Shima in the Ryukyu Islands on 9 August 1945. On 10 August 1945 they bombed targets on the Japanese Homeland. The Headhunters on their last mission bombed a bridge at Kadagowa, Japan. It was on this mission that the Squadron lost its third Commanding Officer to enemy action. On 15 August 1945, the Japanese surrendered.

- Matt F Notz M/Sgt

80th FS Flight Chief and Squadron Inspector

Return to the top of memoirs.

by Hon Arthur E, Lasker

My Last Mission, WWII
By: Hon. Arthur E. Lasker

  I was a P-38 fighter pilot in the 36^th Fighter Squadron of the 8^th Fighter Group. Our Commanding Officer was Emmett “Cyclone” Davis, of “Cyclone’s Flying Circus” Comprised of the 35^th, , 36^tth and 80^th Fighter Squadrons of the 5^th Air Force in the Pacific Theater of Operations. We were on the Island of   Mindoro in the Philippines when Cyclone received orders and we flew all of our 75 P-38’s up to the Island of Ie Shima off the northwest coast of Okinawa. 

On August 6, 1945, a U.S. B-29, atom bombed Hiroshima on the Island of Honshu, Japan. On August 9, 1945, another B-29, atom bombed Nagasaki on the Island of Kyushu. Since there was no indication of a surrender by Japan, the pilots of the 8^th Fighter Group were assigned to fly, what turned out to be, “My Last Mission”. 

On the evening of August 9^th, we were informed that on the morning of August 10^th we would be attacking the Japanese City of Kumamoto on the Island of Kyushu. There were two things which none of us knew about before the attack on the City of Kumamoto.  I was one of the flight leaders on this mission. I was leading a flight of four P-38’s.  After most of the guys had taken off, I then took off  with my flight. I soon realized that my wingman was missing from the formation. I didn’t know what happened to him until I later returned to Ie Shima after our mission was completed. We all took off and headed north over the water on the west coast of Kyushu. I did not know the attack plan except to follow the leader. 

The plan of attack, that was given to our C.O., Emmett “Cyclone” Davis, was to napalm bomb and strafe of the City of Kumamoto from the NORTH. The plan was based upon the best intelligence that our Group had.  But notwithstanding our radio silence, apparently the Japanese may have broken our code and not only knew where we were going to attack from, but exactly where and when we would attack and at what altitude.  Cyclone, however, had a strong feeling that we should turn sooner and attack from the SOUTH. So great was that feeling in his gut, that he yielded to that prompting, wiggled his wings and turned his plane and the Group, inland, South of Kumamoto. All the other planes, including mine, turned with him. Just as we were completing our final turn to the North, the sky went BLACK with anti-aircraft fire in front of us. Because Cyclone had turned early and attacked from the SOUTH, the Group was able to successfully complete the mission and all 62 planes which had been on the mission returned safely back to our base.  

 As to the two things we didn’t know about; Cyclone had no knowledge that our code might have been broken but he changed our attack plans at the last moment and saved all of our lives. Strange, isn’t it?  God was with us all the way! 

Notwithstanding the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, what was the effect of our last mission of WWII? Japan had still not surrendered prior to this mission. But immediately after our mission, Japan sent its Envoys  in a White Betty Bomber with a Large Green Cross on its belly and its tail, to Ie Shima and then, the Envoys were transferred to a C-54 which  flew them to Manila to meet with General MacArthur, WWII was then over. We will never know the full effect of our last mission but it was a very historic event.  

P.S.  Now, what about my element leader’s wingman, Kennedy? When I returned to Ie Shima I was told the following story.  

Kennedy had started his take off with both throttles full forward. As his plane left the ground and became airborne, his left engine conked out and stopped. He had a real problem with his load of bombs, ammunition and gas. He hit his bomb release button but it didn’t work, so he quickly manually pulled his hand release lever and the bombs dropped and exploded at water’s edge.  Kennedy’s plane was pulling to the left and he hit the water and bounced slightly nose up, then came down and with all the weight in the nose, sank nose down with the cockpit and canopy under water. The   canopy would not open as he pulled the canopy release lever because of the water pressure. He then quickly got out of his shoulder straps, seat belt and parachute harness and started to pull the left window down. The water then came pouring into the cockpit and he kept his mouth up high near the canopy so he could breathe until he was able to either pop the canopy or get out through the left window. He then came up above water level and pulled the strings on his Mae West but it didn’t inflate.  Some of the guys got a small boat out to him and picked him up out of the water. He only said, “This was my last flight. I will never fly again!”

He believed that if word got out that he refused to fly, that he might be court-martialed. To the best of my knowledge, no one ever said a word about his refusal to fly again, especially, notwithstanding the fact that the war was about to be over.

Later, Kennedy and I ended up on the same ship going back to the States from Yokohama to San Francisco. With his “luck” he even had surgery aboard the ship taking us home, But, he made it. We both did. After the ship reached port we said “so long” and wished each other well.  

 This Article could not have been written without the help and assistance of both Emmett “Cyclone” Davis and his son, J Tucker Davis. My sincere thanks, appreciation and love to both of them.  Cyclone saved my life that day back in WWII."

- Hon. Arthur E. Lasker