Soon enough, we got the words from Stettler:
“We’re approaching the coast of Japan. Start preparations
for the bomb run.”
A hundred miles from the target area we could
see the glow in the sky from the fires that had been started
by the “pathfinder” planes. There were bombers
sent out ahead to drop incendiary bombs to light the way for
the main fleet.
We put on our flak suits and helmets, donned
our oxygen masks, and depressurized any objects or people
near the hole could be sucked out.
I, for one, was hoping the civilians had gotten
out of the city. They had been warned ahead of time by American
radio broadcasts. A list of cities would be read to them with
the advice that military targets near a selected few of them
would be hit.
The Radar Officer was helping with the long-range
navigation and now he coordinated closely with the Navigator
on the bombing run. This was especially important if the target
was obscured by smoke or clouds. The Bombardier took control
of the plane for the final bomb run. The auto –pilot
is connected to the Nordin bombsight. By making his adjustments,
Andy Ftacek, the bombardier, controls the direction over the
target. So Navigator, Bombardier and Radar Officer are earning
their pay while the rest of the crew members just sit and
watch. Because of the anti-aircraft fire, there are no enemy
fighters so the gunners are also spectators.
The layer of smoke hanging over the target
would rise up and settle back down as a string of bombs from
the preceding aircraft exploded. I have never seen a fireworks
display since that I haven’t been reminded of night
air raids. Streaks of fire going up or coming down, punctuated
by loud explosions that would rock the plane, would be followed
by sounds like gravel bouncing off the plane, as debris from
flak fell back toward earth.
Searchlights focused on our plane while gunners
from below concentrated their anti-aircraft fire in our direction.
While we were over the target area, we saw
the other planes from our group for the first time since we
left the base. They are visible all around us at their pre-planned
altitudes. We feel the comfort of numbers for a little while.
“Bombs Away,” Andy announces,
and Bill says, “I’ve got it.” We make a
turn and take up a heading that will get us away from enemy
fire and back over the ocean. The same thing is happening
over the other the cities that we can make out in the distance.
The other bomb groups are hitting their targets, also creating
fires that we will be able to see from two hundred miles away
as we return to our bases.
“Let’s Go Home”
“Let’s go home,” Dick Stettler
says and gives us the heading. We all start breathing normally
again and remove our oxygen masks when Gerald Morey tells
us we’re pressurized. The flak suits came off and we
set up our cruise for the return to our island.
John LaBosky has been busy throughout the
flight back in his radio compartment. By coded messages he
has been keeping in touch with our home base as well as air-sea
rescue forces stationed along the route. The eighteen-year-old
radio operator would leave his compartment every once in a
while to see what was going on. He had leaned over my shoulder
to watch this greatest show on earth, and then went to send
the message that we had dropped our bombs and the apparent
results. Morse code was his second language.
By now it’s 0200 (2am) and we set up our
cruising conditions for the seven-hour flight back to Guam.
Making sure that we’re on the right heading, and everything
is in order, Tapp says, “You’ve got it, Ken, I’m
going to take a snooze.” Soon Stettler and I are the only
ones awake. The plane is on autopilot and I put my feet up and
relax, occasionally making a small heading correction. Dick
would say, “Kenny, turn left one degree. That’s
good, let’s hold that heading for awhile.”
