This is the story of the 497th's final lonewolf bombing strike against Tokyo on January
27th, 1945 when B-29 missions were still in "short pants"; when Superfort fliers were giving their minds, their hearts, their
lives to the task of putting the Superfortress in full dress, preparing Japan for a shroud; when there was no friendly Iwo
to set down on in emergency; when there were no Mustangs to ward off the waves of murderous enemy fighters.
It's the story of how 497th crewmen--guys like Avery, who barely made it back;
McDonnell, Peterson, Dauth, and Hahn and their crews who didn't--met and fought off the bulk of the greatest aerial attack
the Japanese have even been able to mount against Superfort Task Forces; how they went on to bomb their target and how those
who returned to base sincerely hoped, but did not realize, that what they went through that day, other fliers would be spared.
They had met the measure of Japan's homeland air force. Never again were the Japanese able to put up a defense as severe as
that which battered at the tiny force on January 27th.
Crewmen who flew on that mission will be spinning this combat yarn alongside
fireplaces, over bars and in shops and offices as long as any of them are above. Tokyo, January 27th is to men of the 497th
what the Iwo Jima battle is to Marines; what the "Battle of the Bulge" is to men of the European campaign; what "Schweinfurt"
is to American men who bombed Germany.
Today, in talking to crewmen who flew on that mission, one has only to ask "which
was your most difficult mission?' or, casually, in an ice-breaking manner, mention the January 27th strike and crewmen either
begin gesturing wildly with their hands to describe the fighter attacks which their bomber had to withstand or they stare
off into space blankly, remembering with squinted eyes and clenched Jaws--but saying nothing.
Major Walter L. Geyer (Mena, Arkansas) summed up the average crewman's opinion
of the mission: "Over the target I clearly remember saying to myself as we ploughed through fighters and flak, "If I ever
get out of this one I'm through flying"--and at that moment I really meant it."
The heroism, the gallantry, the sacrifices, the fear and the elation, and finally
the results achieved, are all blended to make one of the most courageous tales of the Pacific War. On this day the back of
Japanese opposition was broken. For later, as fleets of 700 and more Superforts pounded Japan from the Marianas, Nip anti-aircraft
fire was comparatively light; Jap fighter opposition practically negligible and Superfort forces smashed at dozens of cities
with extremely light losses. This air warrior's dream was never realized until the minions of the empire who protected "Flak
Alley: were met and vanquished in the fiercest battle ever to take place over Japan. January 27th was the last day that the
497th and the remaining units of the 73rd Wing struck at Japan alone. On the very next mission, the 313th Wing, based on Tinian,
joined with the 73rd to bomb Kobe. Though Group after Group was added to the growing air war against Japan, none has a battle
story to equal the one which the 497th wrote on January 27th.
The 497th and its companion Groups of the 73rd Wing had bombed Japan from Saipan.
Its crewmen flew through all kinds of weather, tested all types of air battle and bombing tactics, stored up all kinds of
experiences and information to be passed on to newcomers in this newest of wars: the Air War against Japan proper. Mission
after mission as the Wing flew on alone, the intensity of Japanese fighter plane and anti-aircraft gunfire increased. December
4, Wing crewmen fought off 75 attacks at Tokyo and bombed their target.. December 27th they blasted their way through 508
attacks, shot down nine fighters and dropped their bombs on another Jap war plant at Nagoya. January 23 they again hit Nagoya
after smashing aside 626 attacks and shooting down 32 fighters to get to the target.
In its first two months of operation from Saipan, between November 24th and
January 23rd, the Wing fought off more than 3,500 fighter attacks. There was an average of four attacks against each plane
bombing during this period; Wing gunners shot down 106 fighters.
On January 27th the peak in Jap fighter attacks against B-29's was reached.
To bomb the dock area of Tokyo through a heavy undercast, sixty-two Superforts of the Wing ploughed through 984 Jap fighter
plane attacks--554 of which were against the 497th. Of the more than 350 Jap planes which attacked, 60 were shot down (34
by the 497th) and 56 were probably shot down (32 by the 497th). Nearly one-tenth of all the fighters shot down by Mariana-based
B-29's in approximately 300 missions were destroyed that day.
Nine B-29's were lost during the mission; the greatest number of planes the
Wing ever lost on any mission; the greatest number any Wing lost to enemy aircraft on a single strike-- and five of these
great ships and four of their gallant crews were stricken from the rolls of the 497th.
Destroyed Superforts were spread from Honshu to Saipan. The 497th, leading the
Wing, was first over the target and therefore bore the brunt of Jap fighter and A/A opposition. Seventeen of our planes crossed
the Japanese coast ant turned to make their bomb run. Two were sent down by Jap fighter bullets; a third just disappeared
over the target; a fourth plunged into the ocean 250 miles off the coast of Honshu on the return flight and a fifth crashed
at base and was destroyed. Thirteen of the 17 crews returned safely and of the twelve planes landing safely, eight suffered
extensive battle damage. This pitifully small force had to fight off 554 separate attacks for an hour and a half along a 150-mile
route. Of the more than 260 planes which made these attacks on the Group, 34 were shot down and 21 were probably shot down
by the eagle-eyed gunners who fired upwards of 70,000 rounds of ammunition.
The Japs were waiting for the force. They knew it was coming even before Superfortress
Crewmen spotted the towering heights of snowcapped Mount Fuji. About 300 miles from the coast of Honshu the tight formations
of low flying Superfortresses were detected by two Jap patrol boats.
"When the boys saw the boats they knew they were going to get a different type
of show at Tokyo that day." said Major Pershing L. Yon (Tallahassee, Florida) who piloted a B-29 on the mission.
The patrol boats which had been cruising on the exact course to Honshu, were
able to radio an hour's warning that B-29's were speeding in to smash at the homeland once again.
That was word enough for Jap fighter pilots. With a whole hour in which to check
ammunition, gas-up, warm up their planes and climb to the five-mile altitude of the incoming Superforts, planes from all over
the Tokyo-Nagoya area were alerted in time to speed down Nip runways well before the 497th even sighted land.
Hundreds of Jap fighters of all types and with all manner of markings were thrown
into battle that day. Fighters from the new, slick jet-black Irvings, down to single-engine, obsolete craft, boiled skyward
to smash into the just-arriving Superforts. The Japs even tossed in a medium bomber for good measure. As Jap pilots jabbered
last-minute instructions to their ground crewmen for readying their planes, two B-29's, flying an hour ahead of the main force,
were already scouting Nagoya and Tokyo to determine which city had the best bombing weather. As the 497th crossed the coast-line,
two separate "clouds" were seen in the distance--one was caused by hundreds of bursts of heavy Jap anti-aircraft shells; the
other by the Jap fighters, which were already at B-29 altitude, waiting for the force to move down toward the target area.
"Heavy guns were spotted all along the very path we had to travel to the target," said Major Thomas J. Hanley III (Mansfield,
Ohio), one of the commanders of the first formation. "That was the day this course into the target got a name which has stuck
with it ever since: 'Flak Alley'."
However, not all of the Jap fighters waited for the Superforts to reach the
target, for just as the first formation broke into sight of the coast-line, five Jap planes pounced and fired a few shots
as if in formal opening of the two-hour aerial battle which was to follow. Then they drew off and radioed vital information
concerning the B-29 force to the waiting fighters and flak batteries. Speed, altitude, number of planes in the formations,
all this was neatly set in the mind of each Jap pilot and lanyardyanker before they even saw a Superfort.
The bell clanged and the 497th formation stepped out of its "corner" in a fist-cocked,
determined manner as it wheeled around Hammamatsu and plunged for the city of Kofu, the last turn before the target.
Fighters and bombers met head-on. In ones, twos and threes they came, some whining
in from below to spray the bellies of the bombers; others driving vertically from high above the formation to cut off and
strafe the Superforts from wing-tip to wing-tip. As many as eight or nine fighters dove in at once to attack a single B-29,
spinning, turning, gliding, firing, some skimming within inches of the wings and fuselages of the giant plane.
A Jap "Tony" fighter attacked Major Hanley's plane from high on the right side.
All guns were on him and blazing away when a "Zeke" roared in from below the bomber on the same side and strafed the entire
right side of the fuselage. Inches lower and his bullets would have dug into everyone on that side of the plane.
Lieutenant Alvin Garver, Flight Engineer in Hanley's formation from Hartford,
Connecticut, decided to sit only on his life-raft that day--instead of a heavy pillow AND the life-raft. Jap fighter bullets
crashed into the plane two inches above his head.
Flames leaped from the loaded bomb bay of a B-29 which had sustained fighter
and flak hit. It shuddered, slowed down. Then its pilot, Lieutenant Walter S. McDonnel (Duluth, Minnesota), tried to speed
it forward to gain the protection of the formation. It dropped back once more and was last seen veering to the north toward
the protection of cloud banks, its bomb bay fiercely on fire and hopelessly in trouble. After the war was over and American
prisoners in Japan were returned to the U.S. the only two airmen from the 497th shot down in battle even to be returned, were
from this airplane. They were Sgt. Clinto F. Lodovici, tail gunner and Staff Sgt. Vere D. Carpenter, radar operator.
The fighters pounced on a second plane in the formation, flown by Captain Elmer
G. Hahn (Idaho Falls, Idaho), which was straggling. Flames found the Bombs and the giant bomber exploded and broke in two.
The front half of the plane, completely engulfed in flames plunged quickly to earth while the rear half seemed to float in
the air. Then it too exploded.
Thousands of rounds of ammunition from many Superfort guns ate into the attackers
and as the 15 remaining planes of the Group moved deliberately forward to their target, the air was filled with earthward-bound
pieces of broken planes--Jap and American alike. Some Jap pilots, in typical suicide fashion, ignored the sledgehammer-like
fire directed at their planes and flew straight down the streams of smashing Superfort bullets to explode within a few yards
of the target-bound bombers. In rapid succession, five fighters were shot down by the guns of a single B-29. Jap flak got
another and guns from three different airplanes blasted a seventh Jap from the sky in seconds. The Japs were good, but the
B-29 gunners were better and the intricate and new central fire control systems of the huge planes were living up to their
pre-battle praise.
A gunner would no sooner finish off one Nip plane than another would speed in
to take its place in the attack. As a juggler keeps his eye on a dozen plates in the air at one time, so did B-29 gunners
on January 27th have to follow the determined Jap fighter planes--only plates don't spit ugly 20 millimeter explosive shells,
belch hundreds of round of smashing, high-caliber bullets, and you have to smash Jap fighters to drop them. An official Wing
report formally understated, "When considering the confusion that must have resulted from the frequency of attack, it is believed
that gunners displayed excellent control."
Gun barrels were red-hot and some of them were burned into uselessness even
before the planes got to the target, so intense were the Jap fighter attacks. In some cases, too, guns ran dry of ammunition
in a vital turret and airplane commanders had to flip their mammoth planes from side-to-side to allow guns which still had
full ammo belts to be brought into the battle.
With two of its planes already gone, the small formation, still under fierce
attack, flew steadily forward. The formation rounded Kofu, a small town west of Tokyo, and bore down on the capital, 100 miles
away. Then a third bomber, piloted by Captain Raymond C. Dauth (Paso Robles, California), was hit. It lurched, tried to swing
back into formation but instead, plunged slowly out of its place in the attack group, its crew trying desperately to control
the fire which had burst from the bomb bay. It continued to fly away from the formation and was never seen nor heard from
again. Again the hole was plugged by another reshuffling. And still the fighters came.
In lightning fashion two Jap fighters rammed another Superfort in the dwindling
formation. One dove straight down on the bomber and sliced off eight feet of its aileron; another ploughed into the tail and
sheared off the entire left stabilizer. The B-29, flown by Captain Lloyd Avery (Long Beach, California), dropped 8,000 feet
out of control, was finally pulled out of its dive and it scooted for the coast-line and out to sea, fighters attacking all
the way.
Only with the skill and courage of their gallant crews did the formation fight
through and reach the target. Finally, with bombs away, the group swung to the right and in precision formation followed the
prescribed course out over the coast-line and headed back for Saipan. About 250 miles from Japan on the homeward run, the
courageous little group lost another of its planes. Jap bullets had caused a leak in one of the giant plane's gas tanks and
because of lack of fuel, Captain Dale W. Peterson of Portland, Oregon, "landed at sea."
At dawn the next morning B-29's were already scouring the waters off Honshu
for the mission crew. The plane was seen to have made a successful "ditching." Squadron mates who followed them to give assistance,
saw crewmen standing on the wings as the bomber rocked in the water; saw men crawling into life-rafts. Then, for five days,
a storm ripped along Japan's eastern coast. The crew was never seen again. For a week after the ditching, planes from the
Group flew from Saipan to the locality where the crew was last seen and patrolled from 15 to 18 hours a day. They flew at
altitudes of 500 to 1,000 feet, between and around thousands of Jap-held islands in the area, all eyes scanning the waters
for some trace of the mission crew. Had there been an Iwo Jima at this point in the B-29 campaign, the men might have been
saved; might have been spurred on, as have many crews since, to wring a few more impossible miles out of their heavily damaged
craft and sputter into airfield-packed Iwo.
Thank you! Michael!
http://mypages.cityhighflash.com/irishlassie.htm
Michael Mulligan
