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Chapter 6

This page is from "RAAF Saga" the RAAF story of 1944.

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From Nadzab to Noemfoor; Nightingales of New Guinea; Kittyhawk Victory

Camp Scene Kenneth Jack

FROM NADZAB TO NOEMFOOR

0N the brow of a coral ridge on a little island just below the Equator, there stood, midway in 1944, a group of roughly made tarpaulin-covered huts, headquarters of the most for-ward R.A.A.F. Task Force operating in the South-west Pacific. Bulldozers and graders were working on the captured airstrip. "Scherger's men" had arrived. 

Here, on the island of Noemfoor, a medium-sized man with a fighter's face and a humorous twinkle in his eyes, directed the Australian air contribution to General MacArthur's offensive which drove the Japanese out of Australian and Dutch New Guinea and isolated thousands of enemy troops in areas where they had no alternative but to surrender or die. He was forty-year-old Air Commodore F. R. W. Scherger, D.S.O., product of Duntroon and the permanent Royal Australian Air Force, Air Officer Commanding the first Australian Air Task Force to operate as an interlocking unit with Major General Ennis C. Whitehead's Fifth Air Force.

Air-Commodore Scherger's Number Two in welding the mobile, hard-hitting R.A.A.F. Task Force, which has played a not inconsiderable part in loosening Japanese strangleholds on New Guinea, was Group-Captain C. W. Pearce, C.B.E., D.F.C., the first R.A.A.F. D.F.C. in this war, won in the European theatre when flying No. 10 Squadron Sunderlands.

Mobility had become the new, dynamic principle that had galvanized war in the Pacific. Distances were so vast, the offensive hops so extended, the moves had come in such quick succession, that a whole new conception of operations had to be built up. Gone were the days of semi-permanent headquarters, squadrons housed in comfortable camp sites, secure lines of supply, well-established communication systems. Primary object was to keep fighters up with the front line, bring bombers within striking distance of a bomb line which retracts nearer and nearer the vital nerve centres of the Japanese empire with each move of the Allied armies.

The problems were immense and had to be pioneered by men nurtured in the old, more leisurely ways. Problems of transport, problems of supply, problems of replacement in machines and men, problems of defence and problems of construction-all had to be approached anew and quickly solved. Mistakes were made, unexpected difficulties encountered, but gradually Air-Commodore Scherger and his staff officers forged and welded an organization more and more fitted to cope with the exacting demands of air war in the Pacific.

Essential hammerhead of any air task force is the fighting machines and the men who fly them. But a hammerhead needs a shaft to drive it home and skilled, knowledgeable manipulation to generate its power. The R.A.A.F. hammerhead in New Guinea proved itself in innumerable encounters with a brave, wily foe, handling excellent modem aircraft; knowledge was gathered by an intelligence organization which had its nucleus at R.A.A.F. Task Force Headquarters.

Unserviceable planes are useless lumber in forward areas unless they can be rapidly put back into the air. The man responsible for keeping aeroplanes flying in the New Guinea campaign was a burly ex-Oxford rowing Blue, Wing-Commander J. A. Ingles, Tasmanian Rhodes Scholar in 1927

Lean, taciturn Group-Captain W. A. C. Dale, D.S.O., Citizen Air Force pilot, civil engineer, ex-Assistant Director of Works, R.A.A.F. Headquarters, had laid the essential foundations of R.A.A.F. mobility throughout the campaign by his direction of airfield construction, first as commander of an Australian works wing and later as an American 6th Army Task Force engineer over American and Australian units at Aitape and Noemfoor.

This new, dynamic, mobile R.A.A.F. task force grew out of the war needs of 1943, General Douglas MacArthur's long-awaited offensive had begun, but only just. In the tangled foothills of the Finisterres, stoutly fighting Japanese forces of high morale were determinedly resisting the forward pressure of the veteran A.I.F. divisions pushing along the north shore of the Huon Peninsula towards Saidor and spreading out from the headwaters of the Markham Valley up Shaggy Ridge. Wewak and Rabaul were still well held, offensively dangerous focal points of Japanese air power; Dutch New Guinea, except Merauke, almost as remote as the Netherlands East Indies. Port Moresby, Dobodura, the D'Entrecasteaux Islands were forward bases in the Allied air offensive.

The R.A.A.F. had not been inactive in the preliminary punches of the New Guinea campaign. Reconnaissance Boomerangs, operating East from Moresby, later from Tsili Tsili, Nadzab, Dumpu and Cape Gloucester, worked in active co-operation with the Australian forces and later with the American 6th Army. Their first four New Guinea sorties were naval co-operation jobs, directing the naval guns east of Lae prior to the A.I.F. landings in Huon Gulf. Circling over the beachhead, calling the range for the heavy guns which were smashing the first real offensive crack in Japanese defences in the New Guinea mainland, Boomerang pilots saw the khaki-clad Australians swarm ashore, following the bulldozers which battered a path for them through the jungle towards the airstrip.

It was symbolic, that No. 4 Squadron Australian Reconnaissance Boomerangs should sight the shells that opened the New Guinea offensive and watch the Australian troops swarm over the sand and mud at the shores of Huon Gulf. The airfields these men took were to provide jumping-off places for Australian-manned as well as American planes in the repeated air, land and sea blows which loosened Japan's grip on New Guinea and swept Japanese planes out of New Guinea skies. The part the Boomerangs played was modest, small, but intensely valuable and highly dangerous. 

It cost young Australian lives, gave others coveted decorations. During  the drive on Sattelberg, (captured November 25, 1943), Flying-Officer Hec Munro, flying a Wirraway, dropped supplies to a hard pressed, isolated A.I.F. patrol. Shortly after he was shot down in a mêlée with Zeros. American fighters who provided top cover for this mission avenged him by shooting down five of the attacking Japs. But they were hopelessly outnumbered and the Wirraway didn't have a chance.

The capture of Nadzab on September 5, 1942, by American paratroops gave the resurgent R.A.A.F. its first definitely offensive role in the opening offensive. By December, No. 24 Squadron, R.A.A.F., converted to Vultee Vengeance dive bombers, was operating in co-operation with the A.I.F. and the American 6th Army. This was made possible by Australian airfield construction squadrons which built Newton Field, a name which commemorates Flight-Lieutenant Bruce Newton, V.C. Situated just inside the jungle belt which pushes up the dank, lower reaches of the Markham Valley from Lae, this airfield was ripped out of virgin territory in twenty-seven days, working twenty-four hours a day, complete with two 6,000-feet strips, road systems and dispersal bays. It created a New Guinea airfield constructional record and provided the first stepping stone for the R.A.A.F.'s part in the British New Guinea and Dutch New Guinea campaigns.

Among the officers who pioneered the new R.A.A.F. task force in the Markham Valley in December and January 1943-4, were several who shared the bitter days of retreat from Rabaul, including Group-Captain W. D. Brooks, Toorak, Flight-Lieutenant Neville Vickers, Sydney, and Flight-Lieutenant F. G. Higgs, Woonona (N.S.W.). Group Captain Brooks (then a squadron-leader) had commanded No. 24 Squadron's Wirraways under Group-Captain (then Wing-Commander) Johnny Lerew, D.F.C., who was C.O. of the squadron, which flew Hudsons as well as Wirraways. Flight-Lieutenant Higgs had gone back to a place from whence he could communicate with Port Moresby. He was three months in New Britain before regaining Australian-held territory.

Refitted with Vultee Vengeance dive bombers, No. 24 Squadron was now back in the field against the Japanese, this time on the offensive. Few of the original Rabaul members were with it. One of them, Flying Officer William Hewett, Adelaide, was one of the few survivors from the Wirraways' fight on January 20, 1942. On that day, after a magnificent fight against overwhelming odds, he crash-landed on Vunakanau strip, shot through both legs. He landed with swooping Zeros strafing him and bullets kicked up the dust all around as he rolled clear and into a slit trench. Among the squadron ground staff who were at Rabaul and later came back to Newton Field, were Flight Sergeant 0. A. Sefton, Lithgow (N.S.W.), Flight-Sergeant A. C. Broadhurst, Childers (Q.), Sergeant W. H. Gregory, Brisbane, and Sergeant H. G. McWilliams, Charters Towers (Q.)

For seven successive days, immediately they reached Newton Field, the Vultee Vengeances were in action. It was an exciting time. Sattelberg had fallen on November 2 5, but the Japs were desperately attempting to re-form and hold the ramparts of the Finisterre Mountains, which guarded the vital Madang-Wewak-Hollandia coast, key to the New Guinea air war. In New Britain the lights were going up. Americans landed at Arawe on December 15; on December 26 Marines stormed Cape Gloucester and took the airstrip, after bitter fighting, by December 30- On January 2, Americans established a perimeter at Saidor, cutting off the retreat of the Japanese which the A.I.F. were pressing back from the base of the Huon Peninsula. This, then, was the tactical situation when the Vultee Vengeances began their steady, accurate blasting of enemy escape trails and concentrations, first in co-operation with the A.I.F. and then with the American 6th Army.

In the meantime, the Kittyhawks arrived in time to make their first strike on January 13

A few days later, they carried out an escort job over Hansa Bay-on January 20. In addition to escorting B.25s, they went out and strafed a lugger, eight barges, numerous huts, bridges and stores dumps. With the veteran youngsters who had proved their calibre in other theatres were Wing-Commander G. P. (Red) Walker, D.F.C., Squadron Leader A. H. (Curley) Brydon, D.F.C., who had flown Hudsons in Malaya; Flight-Lieutenant (Digger) Shields, a Battle-for-Britain veteran; Squadron-Leader (Congo) Kinninmont, D.F.C., twenty-three-year-old Malaya veteran; Squadron-Leader Col. Lindeman and Flying-Officer Lou Wehl, who had also flown in the Malayan campaign; and Warrant Officer Alf Stewart, who has since compiled more than 1,000 hours in his logbook without a prang.

From the outset the Kittyhawks proved themselves efficient and hard-hitting. With them was Squadron-Leader Les Jackson, D.F.C., now back in New Guinea and operating only a few miles from Lac, the base his brother was the first Allied pilot to blast, almost two years before.

For a month they operated from the newly built airstrip at Nadzab. They supported the Seventh Division in clearing Shaggy Ridge, dive-bombing and strafing Jap gun positions.

On January 30, they escorted the newly arrived R.A.A.F. Vultee Vengeances, and on February 4 they escorted B.25s to But and Dagua airstrips, where eighty-six Jap planes were destroyed on the ground. Over Wewak, Lindeman and Stewart got an Oscar between them while escorting B.24s.

The work of dive-bombing Jap gun posts, and strafing dumps and escape tracks and knocking out barge traffic went on. On February 24, Kittyhawks flew to Hansa Bay and Saidor, blasted ack-ack posts and got a grounded Jap fighter. Four days later they knocked out five ack-ack posts around Bunabun and Medibuh harbours.

Other leading pilots who joined the Kittyhawks about this time included Squadron Leader Glen Cooper, D.F.C., a well-known stunt air-pageant pilot with more than 3000 flying hours to his credit; Squadron-Leader Dick McKenny, who escaped from Malaya after being shot down; Flight-Lieutenant Max (Hawk-eye) Johnston, who flew as Paddy Finucane's Number Two in the Battle for Britain; Flight-Lieutenant Pete Masters, one of the old Milne Bay pilots; Flight-Lieutenant John Olivier, another Battle-for-Britain pilot, who assisted in attacks on the Gneisenau; and Flying-Officer George Herring, one of the seven Wirraway pilots who went up against the Japs at Rabaul; he crashed on Lakunal strip in flames under strafing attack.

The U.S. landings at Saidor and the Pommera Bay area gave the Kittyhawks: an opportunity for patrol and fighter sweeps along the coast. As well as escorting the Vultees on missions over Madang and Alexishafen, they dealt their own deadly blows, and with U.S. fighter and bomber squadrons helped break the back of Jap resistance. It is on record that hundreds of Japs were strafed and bombed.

The first Allied fighter pilots to land on the captured Saidor airstrip were Les Jackson and Red Walker.

About the middle of March the Kittyhawks moved to Cape Gloucester to assist the U.S. Marines in rolling up the Japs in New Britain. They were the first R.A.A.F. units to operate from a base in New Britain since the fall of Rabaul, two years before.

Here they worked in direct support of ground troops. Their first mission of importance was to bomb and strafe a Japanese evacuation point on Garove Island. During the days that followed, they sought barge hide-outs in rivers and inlets, hunted down escaping Jap troops along jungle tracks, wiped out 
ack-ack posts north of Peter Harbour on Garove Island, and cleaned up remnants of scattered Jap forces all the way to Rabaul.

They added to their records the valuable experience of P.T. boat co-operation, covered important shipping up to the Admiralties and worked in conjunction with the Boomerangs of No- 4 Squadron in co-operation with U.S. Marines. They destroyed dumps, set fire to the Pondo saw-mill, west of Gazelle Peninsula, and destroyed grounded aircraft on Hoskins strip.

Beaufighters, Bostons and Beauforts based at Kiriwina and Goodenough were knocking out barge traffic and destroying dumps and stagings.

Meanwhile Kittyhawks from Goodenough closely followed the U.S. landing on Los Negros in the Admiralties. The ground crews landed during a stiff Jap counter-attack opposite Momote airstrip.

The Kittyhawks at Cape Gloucester continued their work. On one occasion Major General Rupertus, commanding the Marine forces in New Britain, accompanied a strike in a Beechcraft and later complimented the Kittyhawks on the accuracy and effectiveness of their dive-bombing and strafing.

A sudden signal at 6 p.m. one day late in April set the squadrons packing in haste. That night, equipment was loaded in ships, and at dawn Douglas transports took on more.

Air-Commodore F. R. W. Scherger, a few days before, had been appointed to command the Air Task Force which was to move in with the U.S. landing at Tadji. Their job was to act as cover over Tadji and Hollandia during the landings, and to move in on the captured airstrips as soon as they were serviceable. Wing-Commander Dale promised that the Tadji airstrip would be ready within two days of the landing.

Under a heavy naval barrage on the morning of April 23, ground staffs came ashore in L.S.Ts and landed at Wapil village east of Aitape, twenty-four hours after the first U.S. landing. And during the afternoon of the following day, Kittyhawks touched down on the strip. Five minutes later they took off on cover missions over Hollandia and continued until dark.

By April 30, the Air Task Force was strongly established at Tadji and operating like clockwork. On this day the Kittyhawks made an attack on the villages of Kanti and Sagara. When ground troops occupied these villages, they reported eighty-three Japs dead and the village demolished except for two huts. The U.S. forces later reported the strike as "extremely successful" and that it had resulted in the complete evacuation of the area by the enemy.

A week later sixteen Kittyhawks flew up to a base in Dutch New Guinea, and from there flew patrols over Wakde, covering the U.S. landing there and on the mainland opposite. There was no camp, there were no facilities. The pilots slept on the airstrip under the wings of their aircraft.

Meanwhile, from Tadji, others were active. On May 8 they bombed and strafed Luain village. They made sixteen strafing runs on the village and the track across the east point of Danmap River. They shot up motor trucks on the road, damaged a large dinghy near the mouth of the Ambe River, and set fire to a petrol dump.

Three days later they co-operated with P.T. boats in strikes around Kairiru and Muschu Islands and the coast around Wewak. They left six buildings burning and another smoking, and several motor trucks between But and Dagua were destroyed. They dive-bombed gun positions and motor roads with great accuracy.

On May 17, the advance-based Kittyhawks gave air support to the landing at Arara, in Wakde area. They dive-bombed barges grouped 200 yards west of the jetty south of Sarmi peninsula. All their bombs landed in among the barges. They then made strafing runs, inflicting damage; one barge, heavily loaded, caught fire.

One of the highlights of the Kittyhawks' work since the Wakde landing was the knockout blow they dealt to a Jap counter-attack which was seriously threatening the U.S. bridgehead across the Tor River. After these successful attacks, the commander of the U.S. forces reported that the mission had resulted in the sm
ashing of the Jap counteroffensive.

A few days later the R.A.A.F. was called upon to dive-bomb the main headquarters buildings along a ridge at Sarmi. The Kittyhawks went out and dropped their bombs repeatedly within a radius of 30 yards and left the buildings damaged or burning. Their work in this area included the silencing of machine-gun posts, mortar-fire and two 90mm. guns. It was common to hear the U.S. Army ground controller say after a mission: "Good work, Aussies. Thanks a lot!"

With the U.S. landing at Biak Island, the largest of the Schouten group, the Kittyhawks were ordered to do more patrolling. In eight days they flew 327 sorties on patrol duties over the U.S. bridgehead. And then, after months of work as fighter bombers and low-level strafers on army and P.T. boat cooperation, and a whole week of patrolling over the invasion forces at Biak without encountering enemy opposition, one squadron got its chance to prove itself against frontline Jap aircraft.

In the short ensuing battle nine enemy planes were shot down and two others badly damaged. One P-40 was missing, but the pilot was later believed safe. The Kittyhawks had achieved a ten-to-one victory, the honours for the day going to a pilot who had joined the squadron at Tadji, the late Flying-Officer Gordon White, who got two and one damaged.

Meanwhile, from Nadzab, Beauforts were striking daily at the Japs trapped between Saidor and Aitape. They moved, with Beaufighters from Kiriwina, to Tadji, and carried on the fight against thousands of Jap ground troops who were threatening the Aitape area.

Japanese barges wrecked by R.A.A.F. Beaufighters and Beauforts and American P.T. boats on the shore of Muschu Island, near Wewak, were so numerous that the coast resembled a scrap heap. Beaufighters alone destroyed seventeen barges and damaged forty-four others in fifteen days, while others were sunk or damaged by Beauforts and P.T. boats along the northern New Guinea coast. In six weeks the Beaufighters expended 360,000 rounds of cannon and machine-gun ammunition in 175 sorties, mainly on barges.

Favourite targets of Beaufort and Beaufighter crews were the heavily fortified Muschu and Kairiru islands just off the coast north of Wewak. Before they had arrived
these islands had been a haven for hundreds of barges used to supply the beleaguered Japanese troops in the Wewak area.

On this work crews got an intimate glimpse of the enemy. One pilot caught several Japanese hanging washing outside a hut, and his claims included two pairs of trousers and a towel destroyed. Another surprised a petrol tanker which he left burning, and saw the driver flat on his face clawing the sand.

On one night sweep Flight-Lieutenant Ron Rankin, D.F.C. and Belgian Croix de Guerre, of Majors Creek (N.S.W.), a former international Rugby footballer, blew up what appeared to be an ammunition dump. On another night he located fifteen barges on Muschu Island. He called up two P.T. boats, which moved up to within fifty yards of the shore and blasted the barges until their ammunition was exhausted. After returning to base for more ammunition the boats again attacked and all fifteen barges were rendered unserviceable. During the attacks Rankin circled overhead in his Beaufighter to prevent shore guns opening up on the P.T. boats.

The Beaufighters co-operated extensively with American P.T. boats and with an American squadron of Airacobras which was operating under R.A.A.F. control. The P.T. boats passed information about barge whereabouts by wireless and so enabled the Beaus to attack. When a target was more suitable for bombing than strafing, the Beaufighters pointed it out by a burst of gunfire and left it to the bomb-carrying Airacobras.

R.A.A.F. Beauforts also co-operated with the P.T. boats, especially in night attacks, when they dropped flares to illuminate barges for the P.T. boats. In four nights they were instrumental in destroying ten barges and damaging thirteen more besides two others on which the Beauforts obtained direct hits with 500-pound bombs.

The value of the work done at Tadji by the Beauforts and Beaufighters was emphasized in a report which said that the Japanese leaders had to recall a whole regiment from the front line to carry stores, because of the disruption of barge traffic by R.A.A.F. aircraft and American naval patrol boats.

At Noemfoor Island fifty R.A.A.F. personnel went ashore on D-day (July 2) and the operational group forward echelon with Air-Commodore Scherger arrived on D + 2. Veteran of five landings, Flight-Lieutenant Bob Taylor landed on D-day and reconnoitered for unexploded bombs. About 120 Japanese bombs fused and set as mines along the beaches and on Kornasoren strip were found and made safe. 

Following successful experiments with Japanese bombs on Kittyhawks, 120 were delivered to the squadrons, who made effective use of them against Japanese land targets.

Noemfoor was a picnic after Biak. 

The landing, was virtually unopposed, although a compact force of several hundred well armed Japs under pudgy, elderly Colonel Shimitzu roamed about the island for several weeks and kept R.A.A.F. guards, who watched part of the perimeter, on their toes.

"Scherger's men" had arrived once more. 

Wherever they had operated with U.S. Marines and the U.S. 6th Army, they had won the admiration of their American Allies, who had come to rely on them as an essential part of their spearhead for storming, and keeping the string of bases that led so significantly to the Philippines. 

They had worked in complete harmony as a part of the Fifth Air Force, often oper ating under U.S. commands, often supporting the U.S. Army.

In a little over seven months the Air Task Force had blazed a trail from Nadzab to Gloucester to Noemfoor, a distance of 1,100 miles. 

FLIGHT-LIEUTENANT NORMAN BARTLETT

NIGHTINGALES OF NEW GUINEA

  • "SISTER, can I have a drink, please?" . . .
    • "Sister, my head hurts." . . . 
    • "Sister, can you spare a minute? 
    • "Sister, stay and talk to me." 
    • "Sister . . 

It might be any hospital ward or tent or a transport plane, carrying sick and wounded back from a f orward strip to the comfort of a base hospital - a strange little world of sickness and pain, flying through space, eight, nine, ten thousand feet above the earth and the sea, where there is just room for Sister to move up and down between the tiers of stretchers.

In the plane Sister doesn't wear the traditional starched dress and immaculate white flowing veil.

She wears instead khaki slacks and shirt, a fur-lined flying jacket and a forage cap.

She's atebrin-yellow, too, but to the boys on the stretchers she's more beautiful than the most glamorous pin-up girl. She's cheerful, matter-of-fact, just as efficient as though she were in a modern hospital ward. Her presence brings a sense of safe, normal, everyday things, and faraway homes.

While the R.A.A.F. Nursing Service has earned eternal gratitude and affection throughout four and a half years of war, from the men it has tended all over Australia, in New Guinea, and on ocean convoys, it is its latest development-work with the Medical Air Evacuation Unit - that has captured the imagination.

Australia's first "flying nurses" - fifteen of them - have been in operation only a few months, but already they have piled up an impressive number of flying hours. Working with Australian or American crews, as circumstances demand, they fly in transports to forward strips with freight-one sister and one medical orderly to each plane-and fly back to mainland hospitals with our own or Allied service casualties-whether from the Navy, Army, or Air Force.

On one of their first assignments, the sisters flew with 400 sick and wounded from Hollandia.

In September 1944, only a few weeks after the R.A.A.F. Air Evacuation Service had begun duty, a transport plane evacuating a load of American casualties had to make a forced landing on the sea fourteen miles off the New Guinea coast. American "ducks" working a few miles away saw the accident and came quickly to the rescue. With the crew, last to leave the sinking aircraft, was a small R.A.A.F. "flying nurse" Senior Sister Nancy McBean, of Melbourne. She would not budge until all her patients were safely transferred to the "ducks". Sea water was lapping into the aircraft as the last patient was taken off, but Sister McBean was too busy concentrating on the well-being of the patients to notice it. Some people called it "high courage and devotion to duty". She thought it was just getting on with the job, "nothing to make a fuss about".

"Getting on with the job", on a routine flying day, means that the sisters rise at 2.30 a.m., breakfast at 3-3o a.m., take off at 4.30 a.m. At the strip-aerodrome they supervise the loading of casualties, twenty to each transport. Sometimes there is an alert while loading is in progress. On the way back they are kept busy with their twenty patients. They carry flying rations, but often don't have time to eat them. If they're lucky they get back to their own base about 5.30 p.m. and to bed before 10 p.m. "Off-duty" they work in the gardens around their tents, carry on with the constant struggle to teach the natives to wash and iron.

All volunteers for the work, the "flying sisters" had to measure up to physical standards of height, weight, and fitness, and went through a rigorous training course before being posted to the Medical Air Evacuation Unit.

By the boys on the stretchers, they will always be remembered as the Florence Nightingales of New Guinea.

KITTYHAWK VICTORY

THE faded pink-and-yellow wind-sock, inherited from the Japs, lolled lazily in the slight hot breeze above dusty Cyclops airstrip. It was just after lunch and sixteen Kittyhawks were due back from patrol over Biak.

There was nothing in these patrols. The Kittyhawks simply flew 300 miles to Biak, patrolled above for a couple of hours, and then came home again with nothing to write in their diaries beyond, "Saw nothing. Sore backside."
They had made more than 250 such sorties in the few days since the Yanks had landed on the beach near Bosnek.

This had followed months of work as fighter bombers and low-level strafers on army and P.T. boat co-operation, during which the original character of the combat Kittyhawk-as a dashing mid-altitude fighter -had been almost forgotten beside its role of accurate dive bomber and troop and barge blaster.

Thank heavens George got out safely!

Indeed most of the squadron's pilots had not had a scrap with Jap fighters during the thousands of hours they had flown over New Guinea and New Britain.

Soon two planes came in, buzzing the strip. They shot up the tower, as they often do when returning from missions. But today there was something different.

"They're without their belly-tanks," an American sergeant said.

I nodded quickly as they shot past and pulled up over the Douglas troop-carriers parked near the strip. And one of the Kittyhawks did a roll - a victory roll.

"Boy, that can only mean one thing," said one of the Yanks.

I walked through the dust-clouds lashed by revving, impatient transports delayed by control at the last minute to let in the tankless fighters.

Four more Kittyhawks had come in, two more with victory rolls. One of them did two rolls in a row. Already the first plane was shooting in on the strip.


As it touched down, taxied towards the line, another was coming in, low in his approach, eager to set down after four and a half hours' flying.

Knots of fitters, riggers, armourers were scattered near the hard-standing. As the planes came up, they ran towards them. No sooner had the first plane settled, swinging his tail into place, than two lads were scrambling on the wing, helping the pilot with the canopy.

"He got one! He got a Jap! " one of them yelled.

It was a time for excitement such as the squadron could never remember. There was conjecture, rumour. At least four of them had victory-rolled.

In the crew-room the intelligence officer had two hours of bedlam. Another Intel. officer rang him and sympathized. It was hard to get much sense out of the turmoil of buoyant chatter.

They had run into Japs - Oscars and Kates - more than a dozen. The final score was hard to tell because there were still some of them missing. Five of the squadron had put down at Wakde to refuel. And there was one still unaccounted.

The squadron's C.O. was brassed off. He was hospitalized at camp and had missed all the fun. The steadily mounting score was rung through to his bedside. As the score went up, so did his temperature.

The Wakde boys came in. More excitement. More confirmations for the scattered narratives. More congrats and handshakes. And more headaches for the Intel. Officer.

Finally, when the pilots had calmed down, bathed and eaten, the story was told.

Flying in flights of four, sixteen Kittyhawks were circling over Biak, after two and a half hours' flying. It was a few minutes after 11 a.m. and the sky was clear of enemy planes.

The P-40s went on circling between 9,000 and 11,000 feet, following instructions from the controller.

"Bogies at two o'clock," called Flight Sergeant D. A. Smyth, flying Number Two in the rear flight.

Smyth had seen two Jap aircraft 2,000 feet above. Ack-ack bursts came up at them from the ground positions near Mokmer airstrip. He gave the report, but there was something wrong with his transmitter. No one heard him.

Leader of the second flight, Flying-Officer Gordon White, had spotted them and reported:

"Bogies at three o'clock."

In the leading flight, Flight-Sergeant J. G. Gadsden was reporting them.

Belly-tanks were dropped. It was all taps open now. Revs and boost up. Led by Flight Lieutenant R. S. Osment, the squadron did a 300 degrees climbing turn into the sun.

Suddenly the attack was on.

Osment came out of the sun. He was followed by Gadsden, Flight-Sergeant R. R. Cowley and Happy Hamden. Osment had the Jap plane in his sights at once - a Kate.

He fired a burst. Flames shot from the starboard wing root.

He throttled back, sat in behind the burning Kate, gave it another burst. The port wing root was on fire and the Kate swung to port.

White, Cowley, Gadsden, and Giles got bursts at it, and saw its tailplane disintegrate. But it was Osment's meat. He followed, putting a sharp burst into the cockpit.

It rolled away, limp on all controls, went into a dive and crashed into the sea. Broken pieces floated on the surface, burning furiously.

The pilot of the Kate had baled out. His parachute was floating gently towards the sea.

Two Japs had made an attack on Flying Officer G. O'H. Giles. Gordon White pulled into them, followed by his Number Two, Flight-Sergeant J. D. Harvey. The two Jap fighters went into a cloud. White and Harvey followed them through.

When White came out, there was one dead ahead. The other had broken to the right, where a dogfight was going on.

White fired from dead astern and the Oscar began to smoke. It rolled half on its back. He fired again and saw most of the port wing fly off before his burst.

The Oscar dived and crashed into the water on its back. Harvey had come through with White, getting a shot at the Oscar when it was already in flames.

White's Number Three, Flying-Officer R. E. Barker, had followed through the cloud in pursuit of the two Oscars. He saw another Oscar in front and below, and dived to overhaul it.

As he got it in the sights it skidded from side to side. His first burst went over the port wing. His next covered the cockpit and port wing root.

In danger of overshooting, Barker pulled up to the left. Flight-Sergeant E. J. O'Connell whipped in and got a burst at the crippled Jap fighter. It swung port, levelled out over the sea, very low.

Flying-Officer N. F. Blesing fired two short bursts without scoring hits. Barker dived on him with a burst covering the engine and cockpit. As he swept past, he saw the Oscar's port wheel hanging. It swung to port, turned over in flames and dived into the sea.

Cowley and Hamden had spotted four Japs in two pairs about 6oo yards apart. They were Oscars, flying down sun south-westerly at 5ooo feet. The two P-4os dived out of the sun and delivered an attack from dead astern.

Cowley opened fire on the rear aircraft from 200yards and closed in to within fifty. Pieces flew off the Oscar's tailplane and it poured out smoke.

Pulling up on the leader Cowley then opened fire at 100 yards with a two-second burst. The Oscar caught fire in the port wing. The pilot baled out. The plane crashed on the water.

Meanwhile Flight-Lieutenant D. R. ("Danny") Baker had led his flight of four across the sun. There was a Jap directly ahead and 2000 feet above, and in a slight dive with a lot of speed. They began to intercept, but three more Japs were spotted 6ooo feet below, flying in a loose vic.

Baker went into a dive with the rest of his flight-Flight-Lieutenant J. C. Griffith and Flight-Sergeant C. L. Smith. O'Connell dived with them.

Baker lined up a Jap. It took little evasive action. It collected Baker's first burst in the port wing root and caught fire. O'Connell got hits on the port mainplane. Baker attacked again and the Jap rolled over to the left and exploded as it hit the water.

The Oscar leading the vic pulled up in a stall turn. Smith hung back and timed his burst to strike him as he reached the top of the turn. A three-second burst started at 250 yards and tracers lashed in behind the cockpit.

The Oscar fell away as Smith pulled up to gain height. Baker saw the Oscar crash into the sea.

Griffith had taken the other, opening fire at 500 yards and closing in to close range. The Oscar fell into the sea. It was like shooting ducks.

While Osment's flight was patrolling above, White jacked up some height and saw an aircraft in a slow turn, followed by a couple of Kittyhawks. It was a Kate.

White attacked from slightly above, sweeping in from the rear. His bullets ripped into the cockpit and engine and it became engulfed in flame. Harvey, White's Number Two, got in a shot while it was burning and it crashed into the sea.

Another Kate appeared in front of White with a P-4o hovering for the kill. White made a head-on attack and saw pieces fly off the wing and fuselage. He flashed past and did not see the Kate again.

Baker and the rest of his flight had climbed back into the sun by this, O'Connell flying with them. They reached 9,000 feet. Someone sighted five bombers at 3 o'clock, but they were B.24s.

Just then Griffith called: "Four bogies at 11 o'clock."

There were four Oscars 2000 feet above.

Baker went for height and positioned his flight into the sun, then turned to investigate. The Oscars saw them and began to dive away.

The P-40S gave chase and overtook them. Baker bore down on one, made an attack, but overshot, the Jap, turning sharply under his fire. Griffith half-rolled and did a diving turn on the Oscar's tall.

There followed several minutes of steep turns, barrel-rolls, half-rolls, skidding, climbing and diving, but Griffith stayed with him, firing short bursts whenever he got the chance.

Several times he saw flashes on the Oscar's wings and fuselage. The Jap went into a cloud, with the P-40 still on his tail. Smith had joined in the chase, getting a shot in from dead astern, shortly before it entered the cloud.

The Oscar shook off Griffith and Smith, to run into O'Connell and Blesing, who continued the chase for more than five minutes. O'Connell got in a number of shots and saw his tracers strike the Oscar. It turned steeply to starboard and dived towards the sea.

Blesing was 500 feet above and turned steeply to starboard and made the final attack. The Oscar rolled over on his back and dived, smoking, to the sea.

The Kittyhawks formed up to come home.

Someone was missing. It was Hamden. Cowley said he'd last seen "Happy" with two Oscars on his tail.

The score for the day-for the squadron's first engagement with Jap fighters amounted to seven Oscars and two Kates destroyed, with one Oscar and one Kate damaged.

This was for the loss of one Kittyhawk.

PILOT-OFFICER G. B. GRAHAM

 
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