Here is the opening/set-up for the next bit of action. Night Patrol to follow in Part II.
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24 October 1944
Ground Echelon, 9 FS, 49 FG, V FC, 5 AF, USFEAF
Aboard LST 610, San Pablo Bay, Leyte Gulf, Philippines
0830
The eight ships and several escorts which made up the convoy—only one part of the massive invasion fleet—transited Leyte Gulf in the grey hours of early dawn and half an hour ago with the sun piercing through the scattered cumulus clouds, entered San Pablo Bay. Leading the convoy was LST 610, housing the Headquarters personal of the 49th Fighter Group and the ground personnel of the 9th Fighter Squadron, circling around the many supply and landing craft that filled the western stretches of Leyte Gulf where the initial landings took place four days earlier. Now, A-Day Plus-4, the Ground Echelon of the first USAAF Fighter Group to reclaim soil on the Philippines were approaching their demarcation point outside of the recently secured Tacloban City.
From on deck, Captain J. Walter Spence, the 9th FS S-2 Intelligence Officer, watched the approaching shore with anticipation and not a little trepidation. After the first excitement of seeing the mass of Allied ships neatly arrayed and lined up to await their turn delivering whatever materiel they had for the G.I.’s fighting on the ground, the blaring klaxon alarm for “Battle Stations” reminded those aboard that they had entered an active battle zone. If that was not enough, the sight of a Japanese fighter burning through the clouds as it plunged to the bay nearby was.
The sounds of distant artillery and gunfire from a few miles inland echoed over the waters, audible even above the rhythmic thrumming of the diesels and the churning splash of the wake. Above, through the gaps in the clouds Navy fighters danced with incoming Jap aircraft, their thunderous Pratt & Whitneys laying a steady bassline over the scream of the enemy engines accented by the staccato snares of machine guns.
A Betty bomber broke out of a large cumulus in a finger of black smoke and soon followed that first fighter into the bay. The men on deck cheered as it was quickly joined by first one, then two, then four Jap bombers, each leaving fire and wreckage on the now roiling seas. One missed the bay, slamming instead onto a Filipino hillside where it rent trees as it rolled down and left an ugly black scar on the wild landscape.
Captain Spence flinched when the 40mm AA mount only twenty feet from him started firing. The steady “whump-whump-whump” of the auto-loading cannon blasted his ears as it fired directly over his head. He followed its line of fire to see a lone Sally bomber had made it through the Navy’s defensive cover and was lined up for a bomb run on the lead ship of the convoy. It was only when the 20mm Oerkilons joined the cacophony of AA that he remembered a chilling fact: LST 610, his ship, was the lead ship.
The Sally opened her bomb doors.
Spence could swear it was so close he could see the deadly cargo deep in the shadows of the Jap bomber. Many of the Army personnel on deck took cover where they could, a few simply dropped to their bellies and wrapped their arms over their heads. The cheering that had filled the air only moments ago was replaced by the silence of anticipation.
Spence just watched. There was no protection on the unarmored landing craft that could save him from the Sally’s bombs so he watched, and waited.
The withering barrage of Anti-aircraft fire from LST 610 and her flanking vessels trained in on the fast approaching Sally. Streams of tracers converged just ahead of the bomber and Spence saw the airplane wiggle and shift to the right. Seconds later the Sally took a massive hit to her right wing. The right engine erupted in flame and the bomber veered wildly off-course as she nosed over.
His eyes followed it down, still bomb laden and burning, as it turned wide of LST 610 and pointed its nose to the sea. It continued to be torn apart of the concentrated AA of the lead ships but its momentum carried it onward in its deadly trajectory. It hit the water at an angle just 40 yards short of one of the escorting LCI Gunboats. The force of the impact tore at the airplane as she skipped once, then twice, over the ocean surface. One wing sheared off on the initial impact, showering the speeding wreck with fuel. After the second skip, the tail catapulted over the rest of it, and the entire mass tore into the side of the LCI. The fuel immediately lit and sent liquid fire over the decks and men of the small craft. That the bombs did not explode was one small blessing, but—as he watched the unfolding horror of the burning ship—Spence thought it may be a hollow blessing.
The guns now silent, the convoy pressed on to Tacloban, leaving the stricken LCI behind and one other to help rescue what men they can. By 0900 hours, the diesel engines on LST 610 were silent and the ship drifted to a stop just off shore of Tacloban Airdrome, waiting for Bulldozers from an on-shore Army engineering team to push out an earthen jetty so they could unload.
The United States Army Air Force had returned to the Philippines.
* * *
24 October 1944
9 FS, 49 FG, V FC, 5 AF, USFEAF
Central Philippines
1130
Major Richard I. Bong sat in the shadow of his P-38 trying to stay cool while awaiting the go-ahead to depart. The second section of the 9th Fighter Squadron, 49th Fighter Group had been scheduled to leave Wama Drome at 1000 hours, but orders from the front had held them back as the Navy were busy attacking Japanese warships in the Sibuyan Sea. With a planned seven-hour round trip and sunset at 1842 the final Go/No-Go decision would need to be made soon.
He had used his new role as 5th Air Force Aerial Gunnery Instructor, to join up with the 49th Fighter Group when they finally received their full allotment of P-38s in September. They were the latest Group of V Fighter Command to complete transition entirely to the P-38, after flying mixed types for the previous few years. Apart from the benefit afforded them by having Bong with them they also had the benefit of being entirely outfitted with the latest P-38J-1-LO Lightnings out of Burbank.
They had used the longer legs of their new fighter to great effect over the past few weeks. As the ground units packed up and prepared for their imminent move to an undisclosed forward airbase, the pilots and a skeleton of essential maintenance personal were shunted up to Morotai Island on the northern end of the Halmaheras. From there they made two long patrols covering bombing raids to Balikpapan on the 10th and again on the 13th, a total round-trip of more than 1600 miles. Bong flew with them on both missions, scoring two victories on the 10th and sharing one on the 13th, bringing his tally now up to 34.
Even after the fighting, the new Lightnings landed with plenty of fuel in their tanks and they hit the realization that with two thousand pounds of external fuel they could provide a screen to the north nearly all the way to Manila and west as far as Brunei.
Of the four P-38 Groups in the 5th AF, two were already stationed on Morotai—the 35th and the 8th. The 8th was mostly upgraded with new P-38J airplanes, having only a dozen or so of quickly wearing H-Models, while the 35th was still eking by with a force almost entirely of Hs but these were being replaced by J-Models as quickly as they could. The P-38Js of the 49th, without most of their ground personnel, were preparing for their advance, while the Hs of the 475th were holding station back on Biak before following the 49th to wherever the next front would be.
Between the 16th and the 18th, the remaining P-38s of the 49th were ordered to ferry to Morotai in their entirety, where their remaining ground crew would pull double duty with the 8th ground crews to support both Groups. During this time C-46s and C-54s arrived carrying a large portion of the personnel and essential equipment from the 475th, followed on the 18th and 19th by their flyable aircraft.
With that, all four Lightning Groups in the SWPA were temporarily concentrated on Morotai to operate off the 5000 foot strip at Wama Drome and the just completed 7000 foot strip at Pitu Drome.
Late on the 19th, the field order came through to load eight squadrons—two from each Group—with drop-tanks and full arms in preparation for a dawn departure. In the pre-dawn hours of the 20th, A-Day, the pilots of the 7th and 9th Squadrons of the 49th Group, the 36th and 80th Squadrons of the 8th Group, 40th and 41st of the 35th, and the 431st and 432nd of the 475th, were roused for briefing.
Word came through from Brigadier General Ellis Whitehead, CO of the Fifth Air Force (and Gen. Kenney’s right-hand) aboard the
USS Blue Ridge, that landings were underway on the Island of Leyte in the Philippines and that V Bomber Command would provide long-range reconnaissance out to 1000 miles along Palawan and V Fighter Command was tasked with providing long range patrol and fighter screen between this reconnaissance line and the combat area.
The patrol area was divided into four Patrol Sectors of which each Group would be responsible for one. The 35th and 475th would cover the two Sectors of the Southern Patrol Area: ABLE RED in the Eastern Sulu Sea including western Mindanao and the Island of Negros; and, ABLE GREEN covering northern Mindanao, Bohol, and the Bohol Sea. Likewise, the longer ranged P-38Js of the 8th and 49th would cover the two Northern Patrol Area sectors: BAKER RED to the west covering Panay, Tablas Island and Strait, and southern Mindoro; and BAKER GREEN covering the inner seas—Sibuyan and Visayan Seas—around Masbate Island. These patrol areas would provide in-depth coverage of the likely routes used by the remaining land-based Japanese aircraft in the Philippines to reach the landing zones on Leyte.
The radical scheme was put together by Whitehead—assuaging Kenney’s concerns that General MacArthur’s plan would place the ground forces beyond protection of the USAAF—and received MacArthur’s full support.
The Navy was dubious. Vice Admiral Kinkaid, commanding the US 7th Fleet under MacArthur, expressed doubts about the ability of the Army Air Forces to provide effective patrols so far from their fields and had additional concerns about adding more friendly fighters to what he expected would be skies already crowded with Navy Aircraft but was willing to cooperate with the idea that any patrols by the Army would free his own aircraft for other work.
Admiral Halsey, with his large Air Groups in the 3rd Fleet, split his response between rage at the perceived slight to the Navy’s capability, and sulking that the Army Air Force presence will reduce the targets available to his aviators. Unless the Japanese Aircraft Carriers sortie from their last reported berth in the Japanese Home Islands, his fleet may be denied the glory of finishing what Spruance started in the Philippines Sea four months earlier.
It was Whitehead, again, who proposed the solution to smooth the Navy’s ruffled feathers: because of the expected high concentration of friendly Naval aircraft operating in the area, the new IFF identification radios would be on at all times and a strict eastern extent of operation was defined—excepting emergencies, none of the 5 AF Aircraft were to cross east of the western coast of Leyte, Samar, or Luzon. This left the landing areas, the entirety of Luzon, and all of the eastern Philippines exclusive to naval operations.
Halsey was content with this, as it only produced a slight encroachment into the areas where his Air Groups will be operating. Kinkaid was outright pleased: since the Groups patrolling the Northern Patrol Area would be transiting the Southern Patrol Area, the latter—which was within the operational area of his CVEs—would have nearly twice the patrol coverage, relieving his aircraft from most patrol duties to his southern flank through the middle parts of the day. The break in patrol for his aircraft would allow a higher concentration of sorties in the early morning and late afternoon, with time for recovery between, increasing the effectiveness of his support to MacArthur on the ground.
The Lightnings’ primary mission was to provide mid-to-high altitude patrol and interception of Japanese A/C in their sectors, with a secondary mission of shipping patrol and observation. Since the new P-38s weren’t equipped with MF-HF radio sets, any enemy presence would be immediately reported on the VHF Radar Information Circuit (RIC), designated Channel 4 at 142.56 Mcs, which was being monitored by Whitehead and 5 AF HQ personnel from
Blue Ridge for coordination with both Navy Fleets directly via the HF Air Warning Circuit and the Inter Commander Air Support (ICAS) circuit. This central coordination of the active Air Groups was deemed essential to the success of the operation. Any Navy Strike Forces would receive precedence in the airspace and this would need to be communicated to the patrolling Army aircraft in real time to ensure the area is clear.
The timing and distances of the patrol areas were carefully plotted to allow for alternating one-hour patrols in their responsible sectors. By sending up half-squadrons every hour, they were able to maintain a continual presence in the combat area for about four hours each day. The timing of the patrols was altered daily, sometimes with a planned 0630 first departure, sometimes with a planned 1800 final return, and sometimes in between. Doing so allowed for their patrols to be staggered in such a way that the enemy would not as easily be able to predict when and where they would be on any given day.
Bong had been part of the very first patrol on the 20th. Lieutenant Colonel Lynch had recently been released from VIP duty babysitting Lindbergh the past few months and was able to join Bong in the skies once more as we awaited a permanent Group assignment. They had quickly found their old rhythm and acquitted themselves well with Lynch bagging one Betty outright and Bong assisting him with another—their scores now up to 30 and 34.5, respectively. It was a long day, spending a total of seven hours in the air, but it was successful and as a whole the P-38s of the 49th and 8th Fighter Groups accounted for 13 enemy aircraft destroyed and probably destroyed. In the days since, that tally had increased to 34.
The continual flying over the past few days were starting to take their toll. Two planes from the 49th had been lost to enemy, and a third simply vanished—presumed lost after becoming separated from the flight. One pilot had been picked up by American submarine but the others were still missing. The other Groups had likewise each lost one-or-two planes, except the 475th which had so far escaped unscathed. Five other planes were out of action on Morotai—four P-38Hs from the 475th and 35th, and one P-38J from the 8th—awaiting the materiel needed to affect proper repairs.
The pilots were rotating out as best they could. Each squadron would fly for two days and rest the third and since there were more pilots than aircraft they were able to rotate even within the Squadrons. A few pilots were injured or ill on Morotai, getting what help they can from the aide station but waiting for evacuation to the rear.
Now, A-Day plus four, Bong was waiting to join the 9th Squadron on their third day of patrols over the Philippines, once more on Lynch’s wing. Resting in the shade of Marge’s (#44-24183) left wing, he used this extra time to study the charts provided for the Philippines. He would study the islands, the channels, and any notable features then close his eyes so that he translate the flat shades of the map into the view he would see several miles up.
“Mindinao. Enter ABLE RED maintaining 3-2-4. Cross Iligan Bay to Negros Island. To the east, Bohol Sea; west: Sulu Sea. North to Anini-y Peninsula, Panay. Head 3-4-3 into BAKER RED to Semirara Island, turn 0-4-2, follow Tablas Strait between Mindoro and Tablas to Simara Island. Turn 1-3-2, into Sibuyan Sea…”
Bong recited the strange names, over and over again, turning it into a mantra of memorization by mixing his flight path and navigation points into it. He had learned long ago that this exercise when combined with his navigation notes in the cockpit served well to keep track of his position and to ensure accurate reporting during both during the flight and for the debriefing afterward.
Of course, he mused, for there to be a debriefing there first had to be a flight.
Early reports coming in over the shortwave were that both ABLE and BAKER search areas were currently involved in naval strikes. Details were scarce for those waiting 700 miles away in Morotai, but from the CW telegraphic traffic it sounded as though Third Fleet aircraft found a large fleet of Japanese warships in the Sibuyan Sea while the 7th Fighter Squadron’s first patrol of the day found a smaller fleet off of Negros in their transit to BAKER RED, which the Third Fleet had also subsequently attacked.
Bong checked his watch—1137. Just over seven hours to sunset, seven-and-a-half until it would be too dark to safely land back on Morotai. Decision time is now.
“Major,” the acting crew chief of his airplane while he was with the Group approached.
“Sergeant Mills, what can I do for you?”
“Just got word, engine start in five minutes.”
Finally!
“Well, I guess we better get her ready!”
1451
They had passed two returning groups of P-38s on the way north but had not seen any other aircraft since passing Mindinao. At 1420 they spotted a force of Japanese ships entering the passage between Mindinao and Negros at 8° 50’N 122° 41’E. It appeared to be three larger ships and four smaller, and Bong assumed this was the same force the 7th Squadron had spotted earlier in the day. Lynch reported the sighting on the RIC and the 16 planes of the 9th Squadron carried on northwest toward Panay.
Now, they were rounding the Southwestern tip of Panay and turning slightly farther north toward Mindoro.
Bong heard a click in the radio and looked to Lynch who pointed down then at his headset—he was going off Group Channel to let the 5AF Staff down at Leyte know they were in the sector on the RIC channel. It was only a few moments later he came back on channel with a fresh warning from the ground.
“HOBO flight, HOBO Lead. BLUE Aircraft in the area. All pilots, Command Set CHARLIE, confirm ITEM-Channel Five, and get positive I-D on any Bogeys before engaging. Lead out.”
Bong, ever dutiful, did as ordered and pressed the Channel C pushbutton on the remote unit for Marge’s new SCR-522-A VHF command set. This channel was pre-set on the ground for 140.58 Mcs. and will allow them to talk directly to the Navy aircraft and coordinate with them if necessary. He liked the simplicity of the new radios. The old SCR-274-N MF-HF sets required three separate receiver boxes and two standalone transmitter boxes, filling the radio shelf behind his back and weighing over 150 pounds. The new VHF radio—which they had already been using in Europe for some time—was a single unit capable of Tx/Rx on four pre-set channels, controlled by a single small remote unit only a quarter the size of the old unit with a total installation weight of only 91 pounds. Medium Frequency radio beacon reception was handled now by a standalone Detrola 438 Beacon Receiver mounted below the radio control box, weighing less than four pounds.
The SCR-695-A “Identify Friend or Foe” transmitter control unit was mounted aft of the main radio controls on the right bulkhead, near his right arm. It had two units: one smaller unit for selecting the active G-Band frequency and with the Destructor buttons; and a larger one above it with the main power controls, six-position I-Band selector, the Emergency switch, and Destructor plug. A quick glance was all it took for Bong to confirm it was already on and set to I-Band channel 5.
After giving the crystals on the newly channel a chance to warm up, Bong listened in for any indication of where the Navy planes may be. With not so much as a static
click, he knew it could only mean they were under radio silence in preparation for an attack.
It was fifteen minutes later, ten minutes out from their way-point over Semirara Island, that the radio started to come alive.
“BOXCAR, Black One. Nip Fleet, eleven o’clock low, ten miles.”
“Roger Black One. Let’s get a look-see.”
The signal was strong and pretty clear but there was no way to know for certain where the action was. At 24,000 feet the VHF sets had a Send/Receive of around 200 miles so they could be picking up the transmissions from anywhere in their search sector and far beyond.
“A-A incoming.”
“I see two wagons, four cruisers, and five destroyers.”
“Six Destroyers.”
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
Bong was amazed at how lax their radio use was now they were in sight of the enemy.
“Second group, four miles behind, same make-up.”
“Roger. That’s…” the speaker paused, “four B-B, eight C-A, twelve D-D total.”
“Affirmative.”
“One B-B smoking, she looks low at the bow.”
“Jesus, look at the size of that thing!”
“Must be one of the Yamatos. Looks like the other is with her, too.”
Bong was not well versed on identifying enemy ship classes, to him most fighting ships looked alike except in size. It always impressed him how the Navy-boys could tell one Battleship apart from another at 8,000 feet.
“BOXCAR Red, Lead. Let’s set up on the damaged Yamato. Other Flights, follow in, take what you can.”
“Wilco, boss.”
“ORCA Flight, BOXCAR One. We are heading down for our attacks, keep our sixes clear.”
“Roger, we have Cap. ORCA One out.”
1533
They continued to listen in, while scanning the sky for any sign of Japanese aircraft over the next twenty minutes as the Naval Aviators made their attacks. It was harrowing for Bong to listen to them fighting and struggling against the massive warships without being able to do anything to help. The increasing sounds of stress in their voices and the calls of lost aircraft was broken by the calls of near-misses and the occasional bomb or torpedo hit. The lack of enemy air opposition was plain and neither the Navy planes nor the Lightning pilots of the 9th saw hide-nor-hair of any Japanese aircraft.
By 1530 the radio traffic from the Navy had started to peter out as they all turned back east for their carriers.
At about the same time a distant haze of gray and black smoke materialized on the ocean in front of Bong. They were nearly to Simara, where their patrol was set to turn south-east, and near the horizon to the east the dark columns of smoke rose above the waters.
The sighting prompted Lynch to finally break radio silence and let the Navy know they were coming in, “BOXCAR Flight, HOBO Lead.”
There are a pause in the radio traffic which Bong suspected was the Navy trying to figure out who HOBO was. Lynch repeated the call, replacing their radio call-sign, HOBO, with “Lightning” to prompt BOXCAR to recognize them. Finally, there was a response.
“HOBO, BOXCAR, go-ahead.”
“BOXCAR, be advised we at your Six, negative visual. HOBO Lead.”
“Copy, HOBO. You are at our six. Watch for ORCA in the area.”
“Roger that, BOXCAR. ORCA in the area.”
“Pleasure doing business with you. BOXCAR out.”
A few minutes later, Lynch led them on their scheduled turn to the south-east. If Bong had not known Lynch better, he would have assumed they were going to carry out their patrol as scheduled; but, knowing the methodical Colonel as he did, he recognized what Lynch was likely planning.
Unfortunately, one of the greener pilots in their flight did not.
“Red One, Yellow One. Request permission to take my flight to investigate the smoke.”
“Negative Yellow One. Lead out.”
“Lead, Yellow One,” the man was persistent, Bong had to give him that. The trouble was that there was no way of knowing who else may be listening in on the transmission. In the past, the Japanese were not known to use VHF but over the past few weeks the Communications Officers had started to relay that occasional Japanese transmissions were being heard on VHF frequencies. Lynch knew this and Bong understood that he did not want to risk the enemy hearing of their impending approach.
Bong keyed his mic to kill the transmissions on the channel. After waiting a few seconds he opened it back up, hearing only silence, and then sent his own message, “Yellow One, Red Two. Stay with the Lead. Observe radio silence. Out.”
Hearing both Bong and Lynch give “out” did the trick and let everyone on the circuit, including the BLUE aircraft still listening in, that the decision was not up for further discussion. The Navy, of course, could not resist a little ribbing.
“Boy, you better listen to the Boss!”
“If you want to fight, do it on your own channel!”
“Roger, BOXCAR. HOBO Flight, HOBO Lead. Command Set ABLE. And Yellow One, continue monitoring CHARLIE, five minutes.”
Bong switched back to Channel A, 133.20 Mcs, on the VHF. From here on, unless they hear otherwise, they would be back on their own channel. Leaving Lt. Soderman in Yellow One on the Navy channel was a particularly subtle punishment from Lynch. After hearing their poor radio discipline, Bong suspected Soderman was going to get quite an earful from them.
As expected, five minutes later a sufficiently mollified Soderman came back, “HOBO Lead, Yellow One. Radio Check.”
“Yellow One, Lead. Read you Five-by-five. Welcome Back.”
Lynch then led the flight in a sweeping left turn, back northeast toward the smoke.
The turn southeast and the delay in course change was a deliberate tactic by Lynch. Any enemy listening in would assume the P-38s were continuing away from the Japanese fleet and the delay would allow more time for the enemy to effect damage control. By overflying the enemy when they were not expected Bong understood they would have a better opportunity to properly assess the damage inflicted by the Navy.
Lynch led them down from 24,000 feet to 14,000 feet over the next ten minutes as they approached the Japanese ships. At 1550, a full twenty minutes after the Navy attack had completed, the P-38s of the 9th Fighter Squadron flew over the re-organizing fleet.
“HOBO, Lead. Loosen up and spread out. Yellow Flight, Blue Flight, maintain high patrol. Red, follow Lead and assess Enemy disposition.”
As the puffs of Anti-Aircraft fire started to find their way toward the Lightnings, Lynch lead the squadron around the entire fleet, in a broad descending spiral which spanned better than 10 miles.
As Lynch led them lower and around, they were able to start getting better views and more accurate counts of what was on the water. At 8,000 feet Bong could see that most of the ships were cruising North and the only smoke from most were from their stacks. The increasing volume of AA coming from all the ships forced the Red Flight pilots to take evasive action but affirmed to Bong that many were undamaged—if they had been hit as hard as the Navy made it sound during their attacks he would expect top-side damage to have reduced their AA capacity.
Bong banked Marge over so he could get a better view at the ships below him. In the more westerly group he counted six larger ships—Cruisers he figured, two much broader of beam than the others, which he took for Battleships—six destroyers, and another something between them—maybe a Light Cruiser.
The eastern group had seven destroyers by his count, plus what appeared to be another Light Cruiser. There were two more Cruisers, maybe three—he was not sure if the larger one was a Cruiser or a Battleship; and, one very large ship, unmistakably a battleship. He suspected this must be one of the Yamatos the Navy pilots had spoken of.
All of these ships were making good speed and as the Americans drew closer they started to maneuver without difficulty. Bong could not see significant damage among them.
Trailing somewhat behind this group was what Bong took to be another Cruiser, struggling to keep up and trailing oil.
At the completion of their circuit ten or fifteen minutes later, they came past the source of all the smoke. Another very large battleship was barely moving northward and was very low at the bow, with waves cresting over the forecastle. In the time since they first saw the distant black smoke, however, Bong noted that the tone had become markedly grayer as the active fires were doused.
Their observations complete, Lynch led them south and climbed away from the Anti-Aircraft.
“HOBO Blue and Yellow, HOBO Lead. R-V at Nav Point Five, Angels two-oh.”
With that, they all headed away without any direct enemy contact beyond some AA.
