Chapter 14 Darwin Fights Back; The P-24; Night Flight To Sourabaya

DARWIN FIGHTS BACK

DARWIN had a quiet spell in 1944. War correspondents delved into the past for copy, wrote stories of gold-digging claims pegged by the local R.A.A.F., reported on inter-unit football matches. While spectacular advances were being made along the northern coast of New Guinea to the Admiralties, in the Central Pacific and almost every other theatre of war, Darwin cooled its heels.

However, the R.A.A.F. was not inactive, despite the lull in Japanese aggression. With each new moon Spitfire pilots hoped the Japs would come over again. Not since November 12, 1943, when two enemy aircraft were shot down during a night raid, had the Nips dared to venture across the Timor Sea. The Beaufighters, Liberators and Dutch manned Mitchells kept up a steady pounding of targets in Timor. The Hudsons were still in the picture. But it was a steady, not very exciting, process of keeping a check on every pinpoint located by the photo-recces.

In February the R.A.A.F. Beaufighters, led by Squadron-Leader Darcy Wentworth, of Coolah (N.S.W.), surprised a platoon of Japs on the parade ground at Doka Barat in the Ani group, killed 15, wounded many, and destroyed several motor trucks and barges. Mitchells and Beaufighters in a joint strike destroyed the Mina bridge, between Dilli and Koepang.

Koepang, capital of Dutch Timor, received its heaviest pounding of the war at 4 a.m. on Sunday, April 16, when R.A.A.F. Beauforts; and Dutch Mitchell medium bombers under R.A.A.F. Command, unloosed more than twenty-five tons of high explosives.

Two Mitchells, acting as Pathfinders, illuminated the target for the Australian bombers, and, after two runs, the whole area was a blaze of white light. With fragmentation bombs, the Beauforts pounded the target in four waves, and the rest of the Mitchells followed them in. The raid went on for over an hour, after which the two Pathfinders came in over the target and showered more incendiaries to consolidate the fires. Warehouses, stores and administrative blocks were burnt out and there was a series of explosions.

Two days later, a combined force of Spitfires and Beaufighters attacked enemy installations in the Babar Islands, 300 miles north of Darwin, between Timor and the Tanimbar Islands. The Spitfires and Beaufighters made several strafing runs with machine gun and cannon. They attacked huts, machine-gun posts and barge hide-outs, and destroyed a wireless station. The Beaufighters. also strafed and sank a single-masted lugger armed with machine guns, which offered the only opposition to the attack.

The following day Soe township and a nearby Jap camp and headquarters in Dutch Timor were reduced to ruins in the biggest daylight bombing raid by Australian-based aircraft. The Dutch Mitchells and Australian Beauforts made the attack, with the Beaufighters playing a new role-top-cover to the bombers. In simultaneous attacks the Beauforts bombed the camp bivouac and supply areas and the Mitchells wiped out the township.

The next piece of excitement came on the. morning of Monday, June 12, when a Jap, reconnaissance plane came over the Darwin area. The Spitfires made short work of it. Flying-Officer Keith Gamble, of Croydon (N.S.W.), began the attack. Pilot-Officer Malcolm J. ("Junior") Beaton, of Narracoorte (S.A.), scored hits with machine-gun and cannon fire and put the port engine of the enemy plane out of action. Flying-Officer Colin H. O'Loughlin, of Port Pirie (S.A.), scored hits and, within five minutes, the Jap, crashed into the sea.

Australians flying Liberators began to make the headlines in June. Since the formation of' the Fifth Air Force's Heavy Bombardment Unit in the North-western Area a year before, there had been a sprinkling of Australians in, their crews. They ranged in daylight from Dar-win to Balikpapan (2 7 00 miles), Sourabaya (2400), Macassar, Kendari (Celebes), Halmahera, Kavieng, Hollandia, Biak, Noemfoor and any other worthwhile target that was out of range of our medium bombers.

Many of the Australians posted to the Liberator squadrons were aircrew with up to three years' experience in Britain or the Middle East. Some, who had flown over Germany many times and experienced the fire from up to 6ooo ack-ack batteries on a single mission, disillusioned "local" intelligence officers as to the volume and accuracy of the fire from less than a hundred batteries normally encountered in a strike against a Jap target within range of Darwin.

For a time Australians had flown as members of U.S. crews, but as each completed a set number of missions, Australian crews were formed and eventually "Passed out" to join the R.A.A.F. Liberator squadron. Number One U.S. instructor was Major Gus Connery, D.F.C., deputy commander. who supervised the training of the Australian& The R.A.A.F. crews give full credit to Connery and the other instructors for the thorough businesslike job they did in helping them through their paces for the task of manning the R.A.A.F.'s first Liberator squadron

Records support the verbal expressions of praise the Australians won for themselves daring their work with the Americans. Two complete Australian crews flew as part of an American formation which bombed the Kamiri airstrip on Noemfoor Island- now in Allied hands. Pilots of the Australian-manned planes were Flight-Lieutenant Dick Overhue, D.F.C., of Western Australia. and Flight Lieutenant Napier, of South Australia. --%s the formation approached the target- they sighted a strip covered with enemy planes. From 4,000 feet bombs were placed with deadly accuracy through the dispersal area, and the enemy was taken with such surprise that no fighters were airborne.

Although one engine of his aircraft was out, Napier stayed with the formation and made four strafing runs at treetop height. In face of withering and accurate ground fire, which damaged his aircraft, Napier pressed his attack. Grounded aircraft, petrol stores, bivouac areas and every visible object on the ground was under fire. A truckload of Japs was twice strafed. The engagement, officially described as-"action would have done credit to a fighter squadron"-destroyed seventeen enemy planes and damaged many others. "The gallantry and devotion to duty," read the official record, "displayed by all those who took part is glory to the already bright history of the Allied air forces. It is an incident that will long provide an inspiration to officers and men of the Liberator unit fighting from an Australian base." Napier has since been reported missing.

In the previous twelve months up to the end of June 1944 American and Australian airmen flying Liberators from Darwin had flown more than three million miles. They had made more than 200 strikes, including some of the longest ever flown. Their attacks on Balikpapan in Borneo entailed flights of up to seventeen hours. They dropped more than 3125 tons of bombs on Japanese targets and destroyed more than 82,000 tons of shipping. Enemy planes destroyed in the air totaled 125, with thirty-one more wrecked on the ground. April was the most successful month. Fifty-seven Jap planes were destroyed, twenty-seven in the air, and the remainder on the ground.

Darwin was striking back as the end of the half-year went by, lashing out farther and more fiercely than ever before, and her attacks gathered vicious momentum with each succeeding week. The airmen of three nations -the Aussies, the Yanks and the Dutch-had begun hitting hard and often and simultaneously at the perimeter of Jap bases.

On Monday, June 26, R.A.A.F. Catalinas completed what is thought to be the world's record long-distance torpedo mission. They attacked enemy shipping in Bima Harbour, Soembawa Island, scoring a probable direct hit on a 40oo-ton enemy freighter with their second torpedo. They scored near misses with bombs dropped on other vessels, and caused damage to buildings and installations in Bima.

The Catalinas flew the round trip of nearly 1,800 miles from their north-west base. Squadron-Leader Lin Hurt, of Huon Valley (T.), who led the attack, saw the freighter at anchor and dropped from iooo feet to a few hundred feet, in spite of withering ack-ack fire, to drop the first torpedo. It was a near miss astern. Flying-Officer Ben Titshless, of Auckland, New Zealand, made the second run and the torpedo he fired was seen by the following aircraft to burst on the ship. Other Catalinas dropped bombs, narrowly missing ships which were taking violent evasive action. All our aircraft returned safely.

An American-manned Liberator, attached to the Fifth Air Force and operating under R.A.A.F. Command, made three bombing runs on a 40oo-ton enemy freighter near Boeroe Island in the Banda Sea. It scored direct hits on the bow and the port side, and two near misses. Fires broke out in several places on the vessel, and it was listing badly to port when our planes left.

Still on the same day Dutch-manned Mitchell medium bombers and Australian Beaufighter long-range fighters co-operated successfully to pound the Jap aerodrome at Cape Chater, on the north-west tip of Portuguese Timor, with fragmentation bombs. The western end of the target was covered with cloud, but the eastern end of the dispersal area was wrecked. The Beaufighters, which provided top-cover, were led once again by Squadron-Leader Darcy Wentworth.

On Sunday, July 16, a force of four Beaufighters flew several hundred miles in darkness to swoop at dawn on a convoy off Flores Island, north-west of Timor. They were greeted by intense anti-aircraft fire from warships and land batteries. Enemy planes began individual attacks on the Beaufighters, and the flight leader, Squadron-Leader Pat Boyd, of Malvern (V.), shot one into the sea, while Flying-Officer Alan Cobb, of Bondi (N.S.W.), scored hits on another. Flight Lieutenant J. Klugg, of Broken Hill, and Flying-Officer R. Bullen, of New South Wales, saw two other enemy twin-engined fighters about to take off and destroyed them before they could become airborne. In addition to the three Japanese twin-engined planes destroyed, two merchant ships Of 4000 tons, a 5oo-ton freighter and two luggers were left in flames.

The following Thursday gave Darwin another little burst of excitement. A Japanese twin-engined reconnaissance aircraft, flying high near Drysdale Mission to the west of Darwin was shot down by two R.A.F. pilots flying Spitfires. Flight-Lieutenants Jim Gossland, of Felsted, Essex, and Fred Meakin, of Alvaston, Derby (England), simultaneously attacked the enemy at 27,000 feet on either side. Four minutes later it was enveloped in flames and crashed into the sea a mile offshore.

Dutch and Australian airmen early the following Saturday took part in harassing attacks on an enemy concentration of troops at Besiam. River, east of Koepang. The airmen caused havoc with the explosion of twenty-seven tons of demolition, fragmentation and incendiary bombs and started fire over a large enemy camp area.

The first attack was made by N.E.I. pilots in Mitchell medium bombers, and, after one terrific explosion, smoke rose to iooo feet. In subsequent runs Australian-manned Beaufighter and Mitchell aircraft added to the destruction by dropping bombs on the same target. Bombs were seen to explode in the centre of the camp area. Beaufighters rounded off the attacks with strafing runs. Other Australian pilots on air patrol bombed Lautem West airfield, while Australians and Americans in Liberators, in spite of severe frontal weather conditions, smashed airstrips and runways at Namlea, on Boeroe Island, and Cape Chater, on the north-west tip of Timor.

Australians flying Mitchell medium bombers immediately achieved outstanding success. In the first 1 14 days of their operations they made many sorties, including sweeps for enemy shipping, bombing and strafing raids on Jap bases. Flight-Lieutenant Jack Ditchburn, of Armadale (V.) and Flying-Officers Roger Kuring, of Abbotsford (V.) and Stan Davies, of Perth (W.A.), in a sweep north of Kai Island, scored several near misses with bombs dropped on a 1,000-ton freighter. One of Kuring's bombs lifted the stem out of the water and immediate stopping of the vessel's violent evasive action indicated that the steering had been damaged. After several strafing runs, the ship was left with heavy smoke rising from the base of the superstructure.

A later bombing raid was on a Jap airfield a mile west of Dilli, Portuguese Timor capital. Extensive damage was caused by bombs. Other townships severely pounded included Doka Barat and Doka Timoer on Trangan Island, Lautem West in north-west Timor, and Selaroe on Tanimbar Island.

THE P-24

FUNNY, the way a man's imagination runs riot when he sits down to write a personal adventure story. Where will he start-which incident will he choose? There was that fateful day, of course, when the crew nearly "bought it" over Timor and that equally miraculous escape at Manokwari when the Nips sneaked up and dropped two aerial bombs which actually clawed at our mainplane with their phosphorous tentacles. And yet, think of the drama behind a fierce thirty-minute battle with six Nicks on the way home from Ambon! Yes, maybe-but it's all old stuff. Been done a hundred times.

Well, there's only one other story-not so spectacular, perhaps, but a story with a moral; and I've always liked a story with a moral - so here goes:

After a New Guinea conversion course on B.24s, we were posted to an American squadron for operational experience. On arrival, the ops officer, Lieutenant Smith, assembled us for our indoctrination lecture. His parting shot was this:

"In case anyone gets trigger happy, for the love of Pete don't go mistaking the B.24 for a P.24"

A good joke that and we laughed over it, although such an error was surely outside the bounds of possibility.

Months passed. We flew and flew and at each briefing, "Smithy" would crack the same old "P.24" joke. After a while we didn't laugh any more; we just grinned. But when some new R.A.A.F. crews arrived, they enjoyed the admonition hugely and none laughed louder or longer than a P/O gunner just off course.

Came the day when we took off in the tepid gloom of the pre-dawn on an armed reconnaissance-three American and three R.A.A.F. crews. We were to rendezvous at sea and then proceed in formation to carry out a recce of the Sawae Sea and the Soemba, Soembawa and Flores Islands.

Day broke over a troubled ocean with visibility less than half a mile. On E.T.A. we began a square search for the rendezvous point, gave it up after half an hour and decided to go on alone.

At 11 a.m. we were over Bima, a busy little Jap port at Soembawa. There were a few planes on the strip and two-score small boats in the harbour, including three 400-ton coastal vessels.

Our skipper, Squadron-Leader (then Flight Lieutenant) Ian McCombe, D.F.C., called me up:

"Feel like dropping a few bombs?"

"O.K.," I said.

A couple of ack-ack batteries had opened up, but their fire was desultory. From the top turret, George Foster forestalled me on the intercom. just as I was about to ask navigator Tom Chippington to open the bomb doors:

"Five aircraft approaching from half-past two. Our level. Think they're 24s."

They were. Mac said to forget the bombing; we would join the formation. It was a relief to watch those 24s coming in. No one particularly relished the idea of being nearly iooo miles from home on our lonesome-and over Jap territory, too.

With the formation a mile off, Mac put our ship into a gentle turn as one of the American pilots moved up into our vacant position in the first element to make room for us in the second.

We were closing rapidly. I could almost make out the insignias painted on the other ships and observed the side gunners cameo-ed against their open windows.

Then it happened!

The air about us suddenly became alive with tracer and I was aware of two blinking eyes of red flame in the rear turret of the leading ship on the right wing. I heard George's urgent voice shatter the stunned silence: "Some stupid so-and-so's opened up on us! " Then I ducked smartly as a stab of white fire whizzed overhead and into the tumult of my brain there flashed this awful thought: that P/0 gunner was sighting on the whites of my eyes!

Can you imagine it - having to sit there and take it while they pumped point-fives into us from 400 yards? Only God knows how close that P/O gunner came to getting a couple of quick bursts up his tail in retaliation - and if ever you've seen George in action you know what that would have meant!

Recovering from his first shock, Mac pulled back on the throttles and we fell behind. Our co-pilot was calling frantically on "command" and he finally received acknowledgment from e P/O gunner who replied with a longer burst of tracer, armour-piercing and incendiary. I would have given a month's pay for one quick look at our poker face.

Mac waited a while, hoping that the fellow would realize we had four engines and twin fins and U.S. markings all over us - for, after all these things are rather obvious. Then, he started a new approach.

This time, the P/O gunner was considerate. He waited till we were 300 yards off before opening up with everything he had. There was tracer everywhere - then it stopped as suddenly as it started.

Later, we found we owed our lives solely to the grace of God and an American photographer who finally succeeded in convincing the P/O gunner that there were no "P.24s" flying in those particular parts. The Australian was dubious, but took the Yank's word for it; and so at last we joined the formation, whereon the sigh that went up from the ten of drowned the din of our motors.

After that, we reconnoitered miles of coastline, three or four strips, native villages and inspected Jap outposts, bombed a 3,000-ton freighter, noted in our log the volume and accuracy of heavy ack-ack at half a dozen places but, somehow, it all seemed tame.

You see, down in the tail, had had one side an armour-piercing point-five had crashed through the turret doors on a level with his ear, missing his head by three-tenths of an inch. There were two other holes in the Perspex.

Another incendiary had entered under the port side window, shaved the dust from the rudder-control wire, smashed the I.C. junction box and, after giving engineer Les Binding the fright of his life, disappeared through a gaping hole on the other side of the fuselage.

A third bullet had pierced the bomb-bay doors, smashed through the bulkhead amidships and disintegrated one of the large oxygen containers.

Back at base we counted nineteen holes. There was one nasty gash in No. 3 airscrew and a long gaping wound in No. 2 engine nacelle. Needless to say, we were all mad as hornets.

Only "Smithy" seemed pleased. I have yet to meet any other man who could convey such amazing expression by so simple an expedient as a nodding of the head. "I-told-you-so" was written all over him.

We didn't see the P/O gunner that night. His ship suddenly developed a fuel shortage and landed at an emergency strip on the way home. So we waited grimly for the morning and - sure enough - back he came, looking as shamefaced as the very devil, and with the most pitiful hang-dog expression that ever you've seen. Well, what could you say? Who hasn't made a mistake at some time or other?

Old Mac, of course, might have drawn his attention to the obvious moral of this story;, you can never know too much about aircraft identification - you can never be too careful; but he didn't. Perhaps he took pity on the P/O gunner's youth and his extreme humiliation. After all, it was only his second mission.

So he let him off with a reprimand for his poor marksmanship.

FLYING-OFFICER MAX J. COLEMAN

NIGHT FLIGHT TO SOURABAYA

(The flight of a R.A.A.F. Catalina. Time: late afternoon. Place: the Arafura Sea.)

FOR some hours we have been flying north-westward away from our homeland, flying so low on the water that we appear to be skimming the surface.

As the sun sinks lower, sky and sea merge into one bright screen of man-v colours. the varied hues of tropical sundown-cerulean blue, vermilion, lemon yellow, with the cumulus clouds a powdery white, dusted here and there with brick-dust, and the dull blue of night.

The setting sun marks the direction of our goal, Java. The last daylight is fading, and from the haze and cloud-shadows land appears.

As darkness descends, lines of bright lights appear in the hills, where a large bushfire has been raging, adding its smoke to the clouds and haze. We pass close to an island and in a few minutes we are off into the inky blackness of the night.

We pass over other islands, rising to a sufficient height to clear the tops of trees and hills. Here and there flickering lights tell of native activity and.. as we get closer, hour by hour, to our target, we see pinpricks of light which come from enemy rifles. To them we are a black shadow zooming close over their heads. We show no light, fire no gun, for our nefarious mission requires stealth. We hope to achieve surprise, and can imagine the jabbering and profanity we cause.

This night is specially chosen; no tropic moon will rise to stare at us and light up the clouds to snowy white, to silhouette us for target practice. We bypass beautiful Ball, slumbering in the murk out of respect to the large air base at Den Paser.

Time begins to drag. All the days of flying and preparation since leaving our home base, and now we have already been in the air for many hours on this flight. Once we had left on our mission long-range fighters patrolled the initial and final stretches of the trip, protecting us in the dangerous daylight hours. In enemy waters the night protects us, as the Japanese have strangely neglected the use of night fighters.

Our aircraft has a good captain, Flight Lieutenant Len Froud, referred to as "Young Hero" because of his small boyish figure. Our mission is to drop mines into the enemy harbour. My job is second pilot, and I have the satisfying task of actually releasing the mines when the navigator gives the word. He is in the bow, to locate the target and then to carry out the precision navigation required. All the crew have been shown the plan of attack and the target maps and photos of the harbour, so that they understand the other men's duties as well as their own. The other second pilot is aft in the blister compartment with the gunners, and has a good view of the whole proceedings.

With only ten minutes to go we suddenly arrive at the east coast of Java, and turn north along it, close over trees, beaches and rivers, the clumps of bush showing black against the silver filigree of the paddy fields on the low coastal areas.

More flickering lights, like fireflies, reminding one strongly of the Java of peace-time; the strong sweet smell of this densely populated and fertile island is heavy in the air. To us, speeding the last few miles to our target, the massive land appears to be slumbering. Hardly a sign of the great city of the Kali River, where the harbour is formed by the strait between Java and the adjacent island
of Madura, only two miles distant.

At last we are coming up to our datum point, which has to be well identified-we cannot afford a mistake. We turn over it on our first run, the navigator with his stop watch counting the seconds aloud. ne pilot is concentrating on flying a perfectly steady course, air-speed, and altitude. Then the signal is given, I pull the release, and the blister reports, "Port mine gone," as the wing is relieved of its heavy load.

Counting the seconds again, for the second mine drop, when a clattering series of explosions and sparks comes from the port engine-"We've been hit!" and as the engine continues to backfire violently its power is lost and the wing droops. The engineer puts the mixture into full rich, the pilot jettisons the starboard mine, and opens up the starboard engine to maintain height. By now we are very close to the water, and still closer to the trees on shore as we circle slowly around.

The port engine at last begins to run smoothly, at intervals. We increase power and climb away. We have just got over the initial confusion and begin to realize our danger, when bang goes the starboard engine-just one little backfire, but how shattering to our remaining ten per cent of confidence!

As we turn away to sea, other Catalinas are arriving over distant parts of the harbour; we can see searchlights and gun-flashes where the local committee of welcome is hard at work. We all have recurrent visions of being captured if we are forced down.

We are now flying east, climbing steadily, and the engines are both running well, but the port oil tank is leaking badly and will only last another hour. On reaching 8ooo feet we turn between the mountain peaks of eastern Java. Being close above the cloud-blanket the volcanic craters and lava flows are hidden. Then we come to the edge of the clouds and see the green slopes of the southern coast. Here we set course for home, still over 800 miles distant.

While the port engine lasted, our ears were attuned and our hearts synchronized with it, dropping a few revs every time it backfired. At last the oil runs out, and the engine has to be stopped before it seizes up. The screw is then fully feathered to reduce drag. From then on our ears and hearts transfer their interest to the starboard engine, and we live by its steady hum for the remainder of our journey. We soon find that the aircraft will not maintain height on the one engine, and we lighten it by jettisoning all extraneous weight. The engineers begin to tear the auxiliary machinery Out, using spanners, hammers, hacksaw and, above all, the axe!

The gunners throw out all the guns and ammunition, sea-markers, flame floats, and still the aircraft continues to lose height although the speed is now down to 70 knots, fluttering along like a wounded bird and not much above stalling speed. The altimeter gets many a quick glance-no more encouragement is needed to jettison all parachutes and harness, Mae Wests, heavy personal gear, nearly all the radio equipment, spare tool-kits, all but two charts, chart drawer, sextant case, catwalks, engine mounts, all canvas screens, covers, stretchers, seats, and finally all small personal gear not attached to a body. I become the most hated member of the crew as I induce them to part with their revolvers, bags containing expensive shaving kits, and, when the radioman comes to me with a receiver in his arms and tears in his voice, I take it from him and hurl it overboard to save him having the sacrilege on his conscience.

We keep the rubber dinghies, with water, concentrated food, a first-aid kit, and some distress flares, in case we sink into the sea and have to abandon the aircraft. By this time our rate of descent has slowed right up and is imperceptible by normal standards. We had been tempted early in the piece to jettison some fuel, thinking that there was far too much for one engine, but at the high power at which we are driving it, the fuel consumption is double its normal cruising rate and it is using the same as two engines. Of course using up the fuel slowly lightens the aircraft as we go along. After two hours there is nothing left to throw out, and the remaining hours become very boring.

There are eleven of us on board, including a U.S. Navy officer, who becomes a constant source of cigarettes. Eventually the furious smoking to soothe the nerves makes the cabin atmosphere so dense that I retreat to the bow. As we near home our speed slowly increases, and we are fortunate in having only a slight head-wind.

Finally the shore of Australia comes in sight and we make a good landfall, with little fuel left. After over twenty hours of flying it is a very good landing-may all your landings be as happy!

(The failure of the port engine and the oil leak were later found to be caused not by enemy action but by the breaking of a rocker-arm.)

WING-COMMANDER BRETT HILDER