JE93P-EJ

            A copy of this document, published in the Daedalus Flyer was provided by CMarvel, the photos printed in that document have been scanned and incorporated. This is part of the 19th BG Association's history being put on disk. DL

Author Ed "Jack" Jacquet in Officer Club Fort Stotsenberg late Nov. 1941. (photo by Graham)

            Daedalus Flyer Editor's Note: This is the personal account of young Second Lieutenant Ed Jacquet, recording his life as a brand new B-17 copilot in the famous 19th Bomb Group during 1941, then under the command of Lt. Colonel Eugene L. Eubank. Ed got his wings from Kelly Field with the Class of 40-F and joined the 19th as it left March Field in July 1941 to move to its new air base in Albuquerque for opeational B-17 training.

            His abridged story covers his flight overseas to Clark Field with the 93rd Bomb Squadron and gives his own version of the start of combat in the Philippines. Numbers of aircraft, dates and names do not always coincide precisely with official figurues and reports, bur we will give you the story much as Lt. lacquet wrote it down at the time.

            This is not the story of a senior military leader whose mind is full of "big pictures"; historical significance, roles and missions or combat strategies. it is instead the Journal of an untried fledgling fresh out of flying school who just wants to get through today and stay alive tomorrow - while serving his country - if he can. His horizon was almost completely personal.

            We believe you will find the viewpoint of this junior air officer interesting. It covers only the few weeks before our nation plunged into WWII. Ed actually wrote these memoirs during 1942 and 1943 and has not disclosed them until now.

            Ed Jacquet started overseas with the 93rd Squadron a month after then Maior "Rosie" O'Donnell led his 14th Squadron to Clark Field as the advanced echelon of the 19th Bomb Group.

PREPARATION EXPECTATION

Monday, 1 September 1941 (Albuquerque Field)

            I was a second lieutenant in the 93rd Squadron of the 19th Bombardment Group, later dubbed "The Suicide Group" after the start of the Globular War.

            Quite a few of the boys in the 19th were married just previous to receiving orders for a foreign tour - poor lads! I'm sure glad I did not get married at the time, for this put quite a strain on them when we were required to ferry our B-17D's from Albuquerque to the Sacramento Air Depot for refitting with bottom tunnet guns and strengthening of the fuselage so that our side 50's could be fired without cracking the ribs and stringers. There were other minor changes to be made which usually put a B-17D in the shops for 8 to 10 days. Naturally, the crew would remain with the ship, and in California you can always have fun. Especially since we also received "per diem", or $6.00 per day extra for expenses.

Saturday, 18 October 1941 (Albuquerque Field)

            The last night we spent in Albuquerque, I saw a football game with Kriel and Moore between New Mexico and Arizona. P.S. Arizona won. The next day was Sunday. I helped "Tuffy" Graham to pack a few things and say "goodbye" to Pat, his wife. He was sure in a storm. I'm glad he received unexpected orders so the leave taking was not drawn out too much. Graham's constitution could never stand it.

            Before leaving, I also bought a Hallicrafter radio. It was a battery/electric type with an aerial attached. There were four wave bands to tune and a charging unit for the batteries.

Sunday, 19 October 1941 (Albuquerque to Sacramento)

            About eleven o'clock in the morning, we took off from Albuquerque Field. Lt. Bill Bohnaker, my pilot, waved to his wife and away we went. The last thing I saw was Kriel's blue "convert" turning around and heading back to town. I was never to see Kriel again. He lost his life with the Flying Tigers.

            Thus was Albuquerque left behind. No more packing of boxes, no more painting of numbers, no more nailing. no more freight car loading. It was a big job accomplished. The ground troops of the 93rd were already on the boats and away.

            Enroute to Hamilton Field, the A.F.C.E. (Automatic Flight Control Equipment) went out. We changed our destination to S.A.D. (Sacramento Air Depot) for repairs by the "experts" (?). On that Sunday night at Sacramento, I called Gloria in Los Angeles. She was the last person closely acquainted with me that I talked to before leaving. Very touching, don'tch'a know!

DEPARTURE

Monday, 20 October 1941 (Sacramento to Hamitton Field)

            A lot of pushing actually put the ship in condition by late Monday afternoon. We took off for Hamilton Field and arrived just before dark to join the rest of the 19th Bomb Group.

            Lt Col E. Eubank 1941 at left

            There was a lot of milling around and excitement at Hamilton. All pursuits were grounded in order to leave the taxi-ways open for our "wagons". The operations tower room was our last meeting place until Hickam Field, Territory of Hawaii. Official messages and suggestions were making the air quite warm. The Air Corps general commanding March Field (MG Joke Fickel Ed.) made a short and impressive ceremony of "swearing in" Colonel Eubank, C.0. of the 19th, with the permanent rank of Lieutenant Colonel.

            Major Walsh, later dubbed "Mad Mike" by the 14th Squadron, was chief aide to Colonel Eubank and really had everyone in a quandary with all the notes he gave us to jot down; radio frequencies, altitudes, power settings, reports, courses, weights, caution in setting of turbos, etc. Later, we received a large folder with everything enclosed. These we studied in the cockpit while flying.

            Our order of take-off was assigned with three minute intervals between ships and five minutes between flights. Mad Mike was to take off first and, ironically, he had trouble with his ship so he couldn't take off till later. The Colonel transferred to another ship and led the flight.

Sept 1941 at Albuqurque AAF NM.

O.R "Tuffy" Graham, E.R. Kreil, E.M. Jacquet.

            By the time we reached take-off position, tension in our ship was almost at the breaking point. The motions and signals we would make and the efforts to be gone through on the take-off were reviewed several times by Bill and me. We had the biggest load we had ever carried -- nine members of the crew, two bomb bays of gas, armor plating and guns but no ammunition. We estimated the total weight before take-off at about 55,500 lbs. Whew!

            After the turbo run-up, we were all set and waiting for the sweep hand on my watch (remember the Hamilton you gave me, mom and dad) to reach the proper mark. Then, away we went down the runway. I tried to keep the manifold pressure and RPM correct while Bill kept the green lights at the end of the runway in the right position on the windshield, meanwhile checking the instruments. The ship took the whole length of the runway and finally lifted very beautifully. A big load seemed to be lifted from our shoulders at the same moment. The last thing we saw was the yellow outline lights of the bridge slowly fading into the distance. We were all alone in the black night with eleven other ships that were already out of sight. We now had thirteen hours of grinding flying until we reached Hawaii and the beautiful hula girls three thousand miles away. Oh, boy!b

            We flew straight ahead, gaining altitude, and turned gently over the Golden Gate Bridge. The gigantic bridge was our first and last land checkpoint till Hickam.

Tuesday, 21 October 1941 (Hamilton to Hickam)

B-17D #40-3072

            As the night slowly wore away and dawn appeared, we saw only one sign of any human beings. It was a passenger ship about one day out of Hawaii. To us it was great since it showed that we were on course and close to Hawaii. The first indication of any land was a large mountain sticking above the clouds on the island of Oahu. We were about 8,000 feet in the air and from the check point, we knew Hickam Field was only about forty-five minutes away. Again we checked the approach procedure to the island and dropped down to get a view of the islands. Gee, they were beautiful, glorying themselves in the marvelously warm sunshine. The sea was a real deep blue, and as we got closer to the shore, it turned to a light green.

Flight path of the 19th Bomb Group, Oct - Nov 1941

                The 19th BG went from Hamilton to Clark via Hickam, Midway, Wake, Port Morsby and Darwin. More than 10,500 miles with big empty oceans, few weather stations, no inflight refueling, little maintenance and weak radios. All (35) B-17s made it, thanks to skilled pilots, trained navigators, a good airplane and the good old "bird dog" loop antenna. Leading the mass flight was Founder Member, then Lt Col. Eugene L Eubank. Commanding the 93rd Sqd was then Major Cecil E. Combs.

            Then Hickam Field with its large cement runways and big cement-steel hangars appeared and we had to concentrate on our landing. The burned gasoline lightened the ship by quite a few pounds, and Bill made a beautiful landing in spite of his fatigue. We were only anxious to get on the ground after 13 hours and 30 minutes in the air. At Hickam, we spent seven wonderful days. Kellar, Graham and myself toured the field remarking at the modern homes and barracks. We spent most of our time at the Officer's Club, taking advantage of the tropical fruits and vegetables put before us: papaya, fresh pineapple, coconut and raw sugar cane. It was fun!

            Later, Graham met a friend from Riverside stationed there. Bob, Graham's friend, very obligingly lent us his car if we would furnish the gas. Bob was confined to the post anyway. Poor lad!

            That's how we toured the island in such a nice style. We visited Pearl Harbor where Graham tried to take a few "snaps" but wasn't very successful. There were lots of guards.

            Wheeler Field and Schofield Barracks also had us as guests. There we bought souvenirs from the cargoes of the boats from China and Japan -- large carved teakwood chests, silk-embroidered whatnots, native cloth made from coconut palm fibers with Hawaiian designs, silk pajamas and robes, etc. Schofield Barracks had a marvelous post exchange.

            Honolulu took our interest next, and we drove through the residential districts to see the marvelous mansions built in such a sprawling manner. The tropical vegetation growing everywhere in abundance gave a landscape effect close to "Utopia". In one home we visited, tarantulas and chameleons were crawling all over the walls. They were pets and kept the room free from insects. Well, almost free.

            King Kamehameha's statue on the public square was interesting to shoot with a candid camera. The Aloha Tower that greets incoming passenger boats took our fancy, too.

            The grounds of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel were beyond compare, with beautiful groves of palm trees, etc. We swam just once at Waikiki Beach. It was very commercialized and sort of didn't live up to the travel folders. We could see Diamond Head from there, though. We did most of our swimming from Fort De Bossy near Waikiki Beach. It was for the use of the army only. That was more fun. It was here that I bought a real Hawaiian "polo" shirt.

 

Pilot 1st Lt W. J. Bohnaker of 93rd Sqd flying B-17D 40-3073  and Copilot 2nd Lt E. M. Jacquet

View of B-17D 40-3069, Pilot Lt Connally and copilot Lt Beekman, from #73

between Hickam and Midway, emerging from tropical storm.

            After such a beautiful but exhausting vacation, we got our ships ready for the next hop Midway Island. We received 500 rds. of .50 cat. ammunition for each gun. That was awfully heavy, too, but the gas load was much lighter.

Monday, 27 October 1941 (Hickam 10 Midway)

            The group of (26) B-17s was split up into two echelons. The first had already left, and we were the second echelon, about thirteen airplanes. This was to help the facilities at Midway so they could gas our ships and get quarters for crews in a more spread-out manner.

            The weather was good and we had a few islands to use as checkpoints. Only one rain squall was encountered in the seven hour flight. At Midway, we went through the approval signals very cautiously and slowly for we knew the Marines were watching us with "itchy trigger fingers". As we let down for a landing, there was a thirty mile an hour wind blowing with lots of birds flying around.

            After the landing, the men stationed there told us it was very calm. Usually the wind hit 60 to 80 mph, as we found out later, but always prevailing from the same direction. Birds gave landing aircraft the most trouble. The runways often became slippery with their dead bodies as the planes landed on top of the roosting birds.

            We stayed at Midway for five days waiting for the echelon at Wake Island to leave. They were having engine trouble. The Marines gave us the Naval Flyers Barracks to stay in. The barracks were very nice and new.

            Several of us made tours of the island inspecting the defenses and getting souvenir seashells and watching the birds. Our favorite bird was the "gooney" bird. They are awfully large and heavy, about four feet in wingspread. No one knows where they go, but they spend six months at sea and six months on land during the mating season. It is fun to watch them land and take off. In their first landing from the sea, they head into the wind and set down, but then they wobble all over and fall down. They still haven't lost the motion from the ocean, you see. On their take off, they get their nose into the wind and paddle their feet on the ground, getting a running start and finally soaring into the air and out to sea.

            The mating dance is known the world over for its humor. Both the male and female clumsily raise their beaks toward each other as high as they will go and prance their feet up and down very slowly, but really as fast as their awkward bodies will let them, meanwhile turning in circles. Ha-ha! Gee, we spent hours watching them. Of course, they were very tame, too, so that you could go right up to them. But watch out for the razorsharp beak. It'll cut a man's wrist in two.

            At Midway, as well as Wake, there were thousands of civilian workers constructing runways, barracks, hangars, etc. They lived from one week to the next waiting for the Clipper to bring in the mail. For each six month period they received an extra bonus. The civilians were very well paid, too, for their dangerous jobs.

Friday, 31 October 1941 (Midway to Wake)

            The flight to Wake Island was about nine hours and quite uneventful except for the two rainstorms that forced us right down to the water. We flew there for about thirty minutes-ten feet above the calm sea. Lieutenant Hoffman, the navigator, had a difficult job hitting the small pinpoint of Wake Island in the middle of the Pacific with no radio aids.

            The long, grinding time was passed by playing "hearts". Bill and Hoff and I put a board between the pilot and copilot seats and used that as a table. As usual, I lost almost every game. Darn it!

            At Wake we spent just enough time to catch a little sleep and load our ships with gas and oxygen.

Saturday, 1 November I 94 I ( Wake to Port Moresby, New Guinea)

            This leg of the trip was the longest fourteen hours and also the most exciting. Our course took us over the Japanese Mandate Islands, and we did not have permission to do so. Any error on our part would have caused an "international incident". Therefore, we chose a time when we would cross the Mandates at night. As an added percaution, we flew at 25,000 feet on oxygen without lights of any kind. The super-added percaution was our guns. No ships bothered us, so it turned out to be just another long grind. Once past the Mandates, we let down to lower altitude.

            The last thirty minutes we had to climb back up to 14,000 feet to fly over the Owen Stanley Range on New Guinea. When we reached the other side of the mountains we found ourselves in a thick, smoker haze from the jungle grass fires. This was a most strange country to us. It wasn't fun looking for the town of Port Moresby on the last twenty or thirty minutes of gas. Luckily, we turned in the right direction along the coast of the largest island in the world and flew inland to the Seven Mile Aerodrome.

            All we could find at first was a large clearing in the jungle. We did not realize this was the field until we saw a few other B-17's parked along the edges. Gee, what a field! We had to land uphill. As we were landing I thought the wheels were going to fly right up through the wing they were bouncing so. At the same time we disappeared twice in gullies on the runway. Of course, the Australians had done a wonderful job with this airfield using only "fuzzy-wuzzy" labor. But the field did not treat a B-17 like the lady she was.

            I'll bet you could have filled a cigarette lighter with all the gas we had left. Guess there wasn't any at all!

            The first thing to greet us as we taxied up to the parking area were the "fuzzy-wuzzies" of the gas crew. They had metal bands around their arms and red lotus blossoms stuck in their fuzzy hair behind each ear. Their only clothing was a "Iava-Iava" or long skirt-like waist cloth. The boys were huge and terrifying. They had just come out of the jungles. They had a hand pump cart to help them a bit and they'd take turns pumping. Sweat would roll down their greasy black skins and make them glisten in the hot, hot sun.

            Can you imagine how long it takes to fill a ship with 3,200 gallons of gas from fifty gallon barrels? That's right, about four hours of solid pumping. The poor boys really earned their money, too. What was their pay. Well, each boy received "two bob" (about 35cents), one bolt of cloth, a place to sleep, plus all their food and two sticks of trading tobacco per month. Wasn't that a lot? They sure thought so.

November 1941. Seven Mile Airstrip at Port Moresby, New Guinea. B-17D #40-3073, in foreground, showing fiftv gallon drums of fuel from which aircraft was refueled. Hand pumps were operated be "fuzzy -wuzzy" refueling personnel. It took over 4 hours.

This native, with bright red flowers in each ear and discolored teeth from chewing betel berry,

is a member of the Matai Bushman Tribe. (Photo bv Ed Jacquet)

            Trucks, or should I say "lorries", hauled us to the Australian barracks near the town. We were sure tired and had visions of real nice soft beds to sleep in. The "Aussies" are rugged individuals, you know, and gave us each a blanket and showed us our bed. The bed was an iron-framed job with a metal net stretched across for a spring. Even that didn't hold us back. Without mosquito nets or anything, we spread the blanket on the bed and fell asleep before we were too wet with sweat.

            None of us even stirred again till a "fuzzy-wuzzy" shook us the next morning to wake us and shove a cup of tea and a scone (biscuit to you) in our face. Just an old Australian custom but gosh the "fuzzy-wuzzies" almost scared some of the boys out of their wits. When we got off our "soft" beds we had to laugh at the imprints of the springs left in everyone's back. Americans are sure spoiled and pampered.

            That day we browsed around through the town visiting the hotel, the bars, etc. The Aussies sure liked to see us, I guess, for they always invited us into a bar for a "brew". The beer was served very warm. In fact, they'd never heard of cold beer and didn't even like it. Incidentally, their beer is very potent.

            Later we took candid shots of the natives. They always asked for cigarettes. Dumb us, we'd give 'em a whole package. The Aussies cautioned us not to spoil 'em so much with so many cigarettes.

            The natives also had a lot of souvenirs and gewgaws to sell. When you asked the price of anything it was always "two bob". They did not seem to know anything about money. If you gave 'em one shilling or even twopence they'd be just as happy.

Sunday, 2 November 1941 (Port Moresby to Darwin)

            The next morning it was time for us to be on our way to Darwin. Traveling back to the ships in our lorries we went along the beach road. There was a whole fleet of native boats, known as "prows". Just a hollow log with an outrigger attachment. The larger ones had two hollow logs with a floor on top. It was Saturday morning and the natives were coming to market. Sure did stink though, since they used the sea and the side of the boats to relieve themselves. I'll bet you it stunk for a whole mile around that area. Each man that owned a boat had about three to eight wives and a whole mess of children. On Saturday night the husband would sell his wives for the night to other natives in town. That was the husband's chief livelihood. We stopped only long enough to grab a few pictures then we left.

            On our take-off we had in get uphill and run downhill no matter which way the wind was blowing. I don't see how the wheels hung on over that rough runway.

            Six hours was the time to complete this leg to Darwin. We flew over the most desolate territory I've ever seen. No signs of life at all just a big sandy and sometimes grassy desert. It was in the northern part of Australia.

            I lost at "hearts" again

            The port of Darwin finally came into view. It was a very busy little port. The landing field was right near the bay. The runways were lined with Australian training aircraft. The whole field looked ready for a war; dispersal bays, anti-aircraft guns and all bristling with activity.

            At Darwin the Aussies gave us their best barracks. We had just about enough time to catch a bit of sleep before a night take-off. First, of course, we were dragged over to the Officers' Club where we were given more beer than we could stand. To refuse would be insulting. I went to bed as soon as I could to catch some sleep but Lieutenant Hoffman didn't. I don't think he ever did get to bed. Hope he had a lotta fun. The Aussie nurses were at the party, too. Can you see why?

Sunday, 2 November 1941 (Darwin to Clark Field)

            Captain Colin Kelly met us at Darwin to give us the dope on our landing field in the Philippines. We had more frequencies, approach procedures and a radio beam to guide us in.

            Two ships developed engine trouble so they remained behind at Darwin. It was quite dark the night the rest of us were set to go, but the stars were obligingly shining to guide us on our way.

            Lt. Hoffman gave Bill the course to fly before the take off and then he must have gone to sleep in the nose. Gee, he was tired after the night before. As the plane lights flashed down the runway and with the engines going like hell we saw someone dart across the runway. Sure couldn't figure why anyone would risk his fool neck by dashing in front of a ship like that. Later, we sheepishly found out it was only one of the numerous kangeroos (Joey) in the area that had been attracted by the lights.

Monday, 3 November 1941 (Arrival at Clark Field)

            About five hours later on our course above the cloud layer Bill noticed a mountain sticking above the clouds. We were supposed to be over water. Nonchalantly Bill called Hoff out of his sound sleep and asked, "Are we over land or water, Hoff?" Hoff jumped up and rustled around in the nose looking for his maps. Finally the answer came. "We're over water." Then Bill said, "Look out over the left side of the nose and tell me how in heck that mountain got there." Gee, did that ever wake everyone up. It turned out we were flying over Borneo, way off course. When we took off Hoff had given the pilot a course ten degrees to the left of the course we were supposed to fly. With another correction we continued on our way.

            The islands we flew over were beautiful to watch. Most of them are not even charted correctly. Sure was tropical and wild on each one. Our new course carried us to the city of Manila to use as a check point to find Clark Field at Fort Stotsenberg 60 miles inland.

            We were anxious to see Clark Field, as we thought it would be our home for the next three years-the usual tour of foreign service. We were rather disappointed in the small, sandy field crowded with airplanes. From the air it really looked like a mess and when we were finally on the ground our expectations were realized.

Thursday, 6 November l941 (Clark Field)

Lt. G. R. Montgomery dozes as "Red Dog" Holdridge holds forth on the pleasures of living in the new officers quarters at leisurelv Clark Field, in November 1941. (Photo from Lieutenant General John Carpenter)

            Clark Field was sure sleepy. The typical, tropical sleepiness had descended upon us as soon as we parked our ship in one of the few open spaces left. We were more or less left to ourselves to find barracks. About all we could find was a "sawallee" hut that had a few empty bunks. Incidentally, a "sawallee" hut is built of two-byfour wood framework covered halfway up the side with grass mats. The rest is left open. There are no floors. Very simple and easy to put up.

            There we stayed for about a week till the officers' barracks were erected. These were also sawallee huts but they had mat-partitioned rooms inside. Each barracks had one or two boys to make the beds, shine shoes, polish brass and take care of laundry. A clean uniform was required every day with so much heat around. Usually, the "boy" had his sister or mother wash our clothes. The laundress was known as the "lavendera".

            I had tailored clothes made for myself. A whole summer uniform cost about 12 pesos ($6.00) and was tailored by the Chinese or Japanese tailors at Fort Stotsenberg. Had a white uniform, too, plus a pair of riding boots. Native labor was very cheap and almost everything could be purchased below stateside cost.

            We had lots of spare time to waste. Graham and I fixed up our quarters so that we could sleep in one room and have the other for reading, writing, etc. We played golf and tennis together quite a bit and rolled dice for "cokes" in the club for amusement. At night we listened to the short wave broadcasts from San Francisco on my radio while we wrote letters.

Thursday, 13 November l94l (Clark Field)

            Transportation was really hard to find. None of us had cars and no one wanted to buy one with the situation so uncertain. Graham and I and quite a few other lads bought bicycles. I bought a brand-new job. It was Japanese made. Sure looked it, too. It cost 64 pesos ($32) and was not a very good bargain at that. Our house boy fell in love with mine right away. Sure had a lotta' fun and got a lot of exercise traveling around the countryside on "bikes". Can you imagine a whole flock of Air Corps officers from majors on down sightseeing over the whole countryside on bicycles?

            Our flight training didn't suffer too much at Clark Field. We had to conserve the hours on our engines because there were no more in the Philippines. We would consolidate several training missions into one flight by organizing three airplanes in a formation and running a navigation problem to a certain reef. There, we'd drop our practice bombs in formation and return home by a different route for more navigation work, often testing the aircraft warning system run by the natives.

            The inside of the ship really got hot. We'd be soaked before we ever got off the ground. Everyone would take their shirts off after we left the field. There were no high ranking officers around then to tell us different. When we returned everyone was ready for a cooling swim in the mountain stream. Gee, that was fun! The water was nice and clear up behind the golf course. There were a few cobras and other snakes around, but we must have scared 'em off for they didn't stay near the pool where we were.

Wednesday, 19 Novembee 1941 (Clark Field)

            Ground training was entirely different. Huge bomb proof bays had to be constructed for our airplanes and fox holes dug near by. Tents were set up for engineering and operations with interconnecting telephones to headquarters. Each airplane was scheduled into the one hangar for an olive-drab paint job. Only one ship was ever painted. This all meant we were preparing for something to happen but we didn't know what. There were far too many airplanes on the field. The base commanding officer (Lt. Cot. Maitland-Ed.) had safety trenches dug near the runways and even had dummy pursuit planes and a B-17 constructed out of bamboo and canvas. He had them lined up in front of the officers' homes near the officers mess. They sure looked realistic. The big wooden props would turn over slowly when there was a slight wind to nudge 'em.

Tuesday, 25 November 1941 (Manila)

            It was very seldom that we could get into Manila, but sometimes over a weekend a small group of us could go. That quaint ride on the "choo choo" to Manila was an event in itself. The locomotive was a 1910 Baldwin built in the "States" very quaint. The cars were of the same vintage as the engine. There were two classes of passengers -- second and third class. We rode second class in the last car and the rest of the cars were filled chock full of natives. They always traveled in whole families including pigs, chickens, aunts, uncles and vegetables and fruits to sell in Manila. They were always laughing and chattering and having lots of fun. The smoke and cinders from the engine were smothering. By the time we finally reached Manila, we really needed a shower.

            At the station in Manila taxi cabs were numerous, cheap, and easy to get. They sure went like hell. Nobody even batted an eye when a taxi crashed or turned over. It was just an every day occurrence.

            Of course, we were new to Manila and the first things to attract us were the souvenirs and junk. Everything you ever had an interest in brought on a lot of bargaining. If you paid the first price asked, the merchant wasn't very happy about it. Usually, you could buy something for just half of what was asked the first time.

            I bought Mother a white silk bedspread -- richly embroidered from a merchant in the old "Walled City" (built by Spaniards). One weekend, we started out at 125 pesos ($62.50) and when I came back the next weekend I got it for 70 pesos ($35). I also haggled for the pillow slips that went with it, but his price was too high. I thought I would come back the next week and get 'em, but to my surprise they were gone. Sure was perplexed. It wasn't till over a year later that mom showed me the bedspread and I found out the merchant had quietly tucked in both pillow slips. Hob Hob! He was a sly old fellow at that, he was probably getting twice as much from me as he should have.

            At night, we'd go to our hotel rooms and wrap our packages to send home, which sure took a lot of time. But we still got around to the various clubs and the jai alai games. These games were the national sport, like baseball in America. Betting was legal and unlimited and someone always lost or won a lot of dough. The restaurant and club adjoining were beyond comparison in modern design and lighting. To us, they were beautiful.

Monday, 1 December 1941 (CLark Field)

            Coming back from the last weekend in Manila we found ourselves strictly confined to the post and on alert. That was the day General Brereton, Air Corps Commander under General MacArthur, came to Clark Field to give us the situation. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he told us to be prepared. No one knew what the Nips had on Formosa because we were not allowed to fly over the island to take pictures.

            Later we found the alert was caused by unidentified ships flying around at night. All American ships were grounded except a few P-40 interceptors. The interceptors found several airplanes following the coast of Luzon, flying south without running lights as far as Manila and then turning around and disappearing north. Where did they come from? Colonel Eubank wanted to know and personally went to Manila to get permission to fly a B-17 over Formosa at altitude and take pictures. While his staff car was in Manila, it was struck by a taxi, and Colonel Eubank had his left wrist broken as well as his request refused.

            The only information we had about Formosa was a drawing from a Filipino spy showing the enlarged runways and underground telephone lines. That was a lot, indeed! Permission would have to come from Washington, D.C. before we could run a reconnaissance mission. In other words, to safeguard our diplomatic relations with Japan we were to be "guinea pigs". We had to let the other side "strike first" in order to avoid having an international incident that would brand America as the "aggressor nation".

Friday, 5 December 1941 (Clark Field to Det Monte)

            When Col. Eubank returned, thirteen B-17's from the 14th and 93rd Squadrons were given orders to go on maneuvers down to Del Monte, Mindanao..This would relieve a lot of congestion at CIark Field and disperse our aircraft somewhat. The 93rd Squadron always received the worst details, we thought, and so we were sent on our way on Friday night, December 5, 1941.

            The 93rd felt that it always "got it in the neck". Here we had to bring tents, cots, blankets, rations, and full personal equipment and fly to a remote field with no facilities. Gee, that was terrible to look forward to field conditions for an indefinite time.

            The orders were flying thick and fast. We had to get out there early that night with a full load of gas. It was 600 miles to Del Monte and we flew all night long. We had taken off so early in the night it was necessary to circle the city of Iloilo on the way south for a couple of hours till daylight appeared. The next day we located our beautiful grassy landing field and landed. Contrary to our expectations, the Del Monte Canning Company had a country club nearby with golf, tennis and a swimming pool. But we still had to live in our tents.

Sunday, 7 December 1941 (Det Monte)

            Saturday and Sunday were passed in pitching tents. etc. Just plain unlaughable labor.

Monday, 8 December 1941 (Del Monte)

            On Monday morning, December 8 (same as December 7, Hawaii time) Lt. Earl Tash and Lt. Doug Kellar were to fly a ship back to Clark Field for engine repairs. They returned in the afternoon with an unusual radio request for an ambulance to meet the ship as it landed. It seemed to wobble all over the sky and make awful big circles to get onto the field. When it stopped rolling, there was the "meat wagon" and someone saw something drip out of the bottom of the ship: "blood!" Upon closer inspection both ailerons were hanging down when only one should be down. Here and there sunlight could be seen through the side of the ship "bullet holes!" Then Sgt. Bibbin, the radio gunner, was taken out with almost all his right shoulder blown off. Suddenly it dawned on us. We were at war!

            The crew were the heroes of the moment, and we wouldn't let them rest till we got the whole story. Lt. Tash and Lt. Kellar had flown into Clark Field as usual just as a big dust cloud appeared over the field. They circled Mount Arayat until the dust could settle down a bit and then made a new approach for landing. There were lots of ships circling the field. They had their wheels and flaps down and were on their final approach when the other ships started firing at them. Lt. Tash put the wheels and flaps up, gave'er all the "coal" she had and ordered the gunners to open up. Away they streaked to get out of that area but not before Sgt. Bibbin and the other gunners had shot down one ship and perhaps two. The B-17 received quite a few holes here and there. Some of the slugs stuck in the props and motors and one slug cut the aileron wire in two. Then they came back to Del Monte with no gas to spare.

            That night we were still talking and couldn't sleep. Orders were received late the same night for a six ship armed reconnaissance formation to look for an aircraft carrier west of Luzon. Each ship was to carry twenty 100 Ib. bombs! For the rest of that night Lt. D.C. Miller, my tentmate, and I couldn't sleep. What could 100 Ib. bombs do to a carrier? Like sticking an elephant with pins. We didn't stop to question the orders but just went, never realizing that the Nips had our radio frequencies.

Tuesday, 9 December 1941 (Clark Field)

            The mission accomplished exactly nothing, so we landed at Clark Field for gasoline. There we didn't know exactly what to expect. The field really looked different by then. In each B-17 positon there was just a charred mass of black earth with four projections showing the former motors sticking out. We counted (15) burned B-17's. Grass fires had leveled all the tall grass around the field, otherwise everything was serene and quiet. Fort Stotsenberg hadn't even been hit. As we leveled for the landing Bill could see the bomb holes he had to dodge. Gee, I was glad; Bill was the best pilot in the world!

            We taxied into our old position or nearby because there was a burned B-17 in there. Then everything was activity for us. Checking guns, ammunition, gasoline, doing this and that. Bill left for headquarters to get the dope but also left orders with me to have the engines started in case of a raid or he came running out.

            Just as Bill was leaving, a staff car came bouncing across the field with Capt. Carpenter and Cot. Eubank. They picked up Bill and told me to wait for the gas truck. The gas truck was really something new to us. It was a gas trailer pulled by a ten-wheeler truck. Gee, how funny it looked. It had every size of wheel and tire you could think of. They were the few tires that could be salvaged out of the 200 trucks that had been on the field. While the men were gassing the ship I went foraging for some food. We had been on emergency rations all day.

In Oct. 1941, a B-17C from the 28th Bomb Sq. rests at lba Field on Luzon some 40 miles west of Clark Field. The new radar for air defense against the Japanese was installed at Iba about then. (Photo bv Bill Wright)

            This was the first chance I had to take a closer look at the field. It all came upon me for I was wandering all over with my eyes down and thinking abstract thoughts when I stumbled over something. I paid no attention and wandered on with only a glance backward, but what I saw froze me in my tracks for it was a man lying there. He seemed in a running attitude with a comic magazine in one hand, but he was lying on his face. Upon a closer inspection, I realized his clothes had been blown off and he was sort of roasted. I was really horrified! That could have been me.

            Then I really looked around and saw the burned ships and bullet-ridden skeletons of what had been our ships. There were prone Americans lying all around, lots and lots of 'em. They all seemed to be trying to run away from the center of the field when they were caught men I had known and worked with for a long time.

            I had a job ahead of me; first, food for the crew. With a heavy heart I kept on across the field glancing here and there but never stopping till I got to a small bomb hole in the sand that still had the bottom half of the bomb in it. I couldn't resist and looked in. Then I stooped down and scooped out rivets many different sizes-and small iron castings all crammed inside the beautifully machined bomb casing. Could these be rivets swept off the floors of American machine shops, auto plants and aircraft factories? Could that be part of a Singer sewing machine? None of them had tags on them but they could have been part of the scrap shipped from San Francisco and Los Angeles. They made wonderful shrapnel for anti-personnel bombs. The shrapnel bit beautifully into naked American flesh.

            Questions, questions, questions -- I had a job to do. Finally, I found the old mess hall. It was a sorry sight, although it was about the only building near the edge of the field not hit by bombs. There were small, evenly spaced bullet holes all through the walls which let in the sunlight. Dirty dishes were all over where men had come in to grab something to eat. Hot food was cooking on the stoves but not a soul was around. I helped myself then, stuffed my pockets with bananas and flagged a truck to go and get the rest of the crew.

            As soon as we had eaten we were off again. This time Colonel Eubank wanted us to keep the ship in the air to avoid getting strafed on the ground. Gee, we were tired but orders were orders. Away we went down the runway dodging bomb holes and a lonely earth scraper leveling the field. We were constantly "on alert".

            We reached eight thousand feet and saw a flight of six pursuit ships above us a little bit. Whew, that was too close! Ironically, Bill and I put our old-fashioned derby type tin helmets on and started to make the ship climb for dear life, thinking we could out climb Jap pursuit. We didn't know it was impossible. The pursuit didn't see us, but as we rose above 'em Bill and I switched our helmets from our heads to our seats and we finally left the pursuit behind us. You can laugh if you want, but it was serious to us. We cruised around for the rest of the day till dark and made another landing, learning there had been two more raids while we were gone.

            More gasoline, more checking, but we also had the brilliant moonlight to combat. Our sleek, silver ship stuck out like a sore thumb and could be seen for miles. Antiaircraft gun rope nets were ordered, about a dozen of 'em. We could see the lights of a truck come rushing across the field. We knew those were our nets. Soon they could be here, but all of a sudden lights and truck disappeared in the middle of the runway. Investigation showed the driver had run into a 1000 lb. bomb hole. Was that driver surprised! We walked over and fished the nets out and let him worry about the truck. We had our ship to cover in a hurry. It was a hard and unusual job but with the whole crew working we did it in about an hour. Then a truck appeared to bring us up to a camp on a mountain stream about three miles from the field.

            Then I found out why I had been carrying a sleeping bag around the world. This night we had to sleep on the ground under the stars. Beautiful, beautiful sleep!

            This was the first time I had seen Graham in four days, so we stretched out on our bags and talked for a long time while the natives' pigs browsed and rooted around us. This is the story of the bombing I pieced together from Graham:

            On Monday morning, December 9, 1941, all the B-17's were ordered off the ground. The pursuit ships were gone, too. They all returned and landed about 11:30 AM. We didn't know they had returned to get ready for a raid on the Nips at Formosa. (And none of them knew the Jap raid had been held up for several hours by a fatefull fog on Formosa. Ed.)

            At 12:30 a formation of twenty-seven two-motored ships appeared. Beautiful formation! They were followed by another formation of twenty-seven. Someone looked up overhead and said, "Look what the Navy's showing us." By that time the ships were past their bomb release line and when someone yelled "Japs" everyone ran for a foxhole. One formation took one runway and the next formation bombed the other. Real precision bombing, as you could tell by the bomb holes. The train of bombs started by the Officers' Mess and continued right on down the middle of the runway. Did the Japs know the mess would be crowded with men at lunch time? It sure was, too.

            Twenty minutes after the bombers left, all types of Jap pursuit appeared, eighty in number, and really strafed the field till everything was left burning. The dummy ships received very heavy strafing. They really did their job and attracted the fire of the strafers but immediately behind the dummies were more officer's quarters and the bullets went through them, also. The Japs really had a field day.

            How ironic it was that the American anti-aircraft batteries chose that particular morning to move their eight guns into the hills around the field for better range. Only one gun was able to put up any fire at all.

            A couple of hours before then Nichols Field in Manila had been bombed. The tactical phone line to Clark Field was used for a warning since the commercial system with the jabbering natives always took so long. On the first attempt to call Clark Field there was a neatly severed wire discovered. Another attempt was made and another cut discovered, and so on, until five individual cuts on the phone wires were discovered. Fifth columnists were really active that morning.

            Graham was caught in our barracks and ran into the grassy field behind and lay down on the ground. He also told me about Lt. "Tex" Gory, a classmate of ours who was born in San Marcos. Their ship "the old 99" was the first ship in the hangar to receive olive-drab paint. Tex saw the bombers and started the motors, according to orders and waited for the pilot, Captain Kurtz. If the pilot did not show up he was to take off anyway. Tex waited till a bomb landed beside him. The whole ship was plastered and the gunners had their "fifties" out shooting. It killed the whole crew but they followed their orders.

            I could go on with other things Graham told me. About the fun the Nip strafers had with the trucks which were lined up bumper to bumper and hub cap to hub cap. Before the war many a sergeant used to get "chewed" if one of the bumpers was out of line. Now the job of the Nip strafers was simplified and they could go from row to row. No wonder so few tires could be found.

            'They also mentioned I shouldn't go near a certain gas truck and trailer. You see, when the natives heard the bombs about fifty of 'em rushed for the first protection they could find. The truck was full of 100 octane and the strafers really made a nice neat fire out of it. Every native was roasted alive under it. The stench was terrific. That was the end of Graham's story.

            At this moment the siren let go for a raid warning. We had our beautiful white mosquito nets spread out in the moonlight, so we gathered them up and crept under the trees. This happened about five times. Everyone's morale had ebbed very low, and we were actually scared to death.

Wednesday, 10 December 1941 (CLark Field)

            The next morning before dawn we were ready to get our ships off the field. Bill had gotten a bad cold before so another crew was gathered together (there were lots of crews without ships), and they took our ship away from the field. Gee, we thought that was a swell rest but we were sadly mistaken. Graham and I went down to see what we could do to help at the field. We looked here and there at everything. We went to our barracks where I packed up a few clean clothes and pictures and things into an Air Corps zipper bag and left it there so I could pick it up when we were ready to leave. I always carried a small backpack of necessaries with me everywhere. We were both dirty so we decided to take a shower. We were undressed and standing in the shower when we found there was no water, so we just grabbed our towels and walked across the street as we were to one of the officer's houses and had a nice cool shower there. Just as we finished dressing again the siren let go and away we ran lickety-split through the tall grass.

93rd Squadron pilots John W. Chiles, Fred T. Crimmins and John W. Carpenter at Singosari, Malang, Java, in Februarv 1 942. They pause before their next mission to wonder at their survival thus far. (Photo from LTG John Carpenter)

            I lost Graham but about a mile away I came upon a big cement shelter for ammunition, old and long forgotten. I wasn't the first to discover it for there were lots of men down there who had just rushed off the field. Those men were a revelation to me; just to study the different types of character brought out by war. One of them had been there for days and wouldn't move outside even to relieve himself. He was sick, deathly sick and afraid. As the bombers came over, another man was praying and singing religiously to the annoyance of everyone. Others were opening cans of pineapples with their jungle knives and eating away on the goods they'd probably stolen from the bombed Chinese restaurant.

            That hole was too morbid and damp and cold for me, so Lt. Chiles and I beat it after the bombers left. We started out running and ran till we were exhausted, then we took up a fast walk. Didn't even realize I had so much reserve energy.

            On our run we came across a Jap pursuit that had been shot out of the sky. It made me feel good to know that they could die as well as we. I examined the burned plane alone 'cause Chiles had gone on. I morbidly wanted a souvenir of this Jap. He was rather badly burned, too, but one cute little fur boot was sitting nearby evidently thrown by the crash. It was an electrically heated type and would be just what I wanted. That was a very good idea until I picked it up and found a foot still inside. Souvenir hunting left my mind then and I ran to catch up with Chiles. I didn't see him till I got back to camp.

            The bombing mission that day was up to northern Luzon. There were three ships bombing individually with Captain Colin Kelly leading. Two ships returned safely to Clark Field. Kelly flew almost back to the field and was attacked by Zeros above the overcast. We could hear the firing in the air and soon saw a large, black, heavily smoking object drop through the clouds with several parachutes careening slowly down. We clenched our fists helplessly as the Japs strafed those men in the chutes right down to the ground. With American ingenuity they hung limp in their chutes playing dead. Only the navigator was hit and that was in the ankle.

            Captain Kelly's ship had received an unlucky hit in the oxygen cylinder. In the early B-17's we had a small basketball-sized cylinder to hold oxygen at a pressure of 1500 lbs/sq. in. A chance bullet clipped this and blew it up. Lacking self-sealing fuel tanks, the wings of his B-17C got blown up, too. Captain Kelly got his men out and almost made it himself but his chute didn't open in time.

            That was a hectic and exhausting day. Every twenty minutes would bring a warning and away we'd run for a foxhole -- run as fast as we could, too. By nightfall I was really tired and slept deeply in my sleeping bag among the pigs.

Lt J. Carpenter shoots sun, Col Eubank wanted all pilots to be good navigators.

Thursday, 11 December 1941 (Clark Field to Del Monte)

            Early the next morning Colonel Eubank ordered Bill to fly to Del Monte. As extra passengers, we carried some badly needed mechanics. They felt like men doomed never to come back alive since we were leaving the main American fighting forces. All personnel at Clark Field had been ordered to evacuate to Bataan and the protective guns of Corregidor. Everything at Clark was being destroyed and blown up. We did not have a chance left to fly bombardment missions from Luzon, so goodbyes were said.

            "Tuffy" Graham and I were told one of us had to go to Mindanao and one could stay on Bataan with all our forces. We could pick. We played a hand of showdown poker, the winner to stay. I lost again. So I went to Mindanao and that's the last I saw of my friend Graham.

 

 

 

 

 

Left: Lt “Tex” Gary, for whom Gary AAF at San Marcos, TX was named, balances a fellow pilot on his shoulders at McClellan Field Sept ’41.

Right: Lts Carpenter, Norvell and McAuliff model the latest in slit trench style fo r1942. Every tent had one close by.

 

Left: In fall of ’42, L/Col Ted Faulkner reviews plans with Founder Member B/Gen Ken Walker of the 5th Bomber Command. Gen Walker was a “high priest” of strategic bombardment. He was lost on a B-17 strike over Rabaul on 5 Jan ’43 with Lt Jack Bleasdale and his crew.

Right: In Sept ’42, Maj F. Hardison CO 93rd Sqd descusses the mission with L/Col Dick Carmichael CO, 19th BG Sept 1942

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AUTHOR'S POSTSCRIPT: Recent queries for "war stories" from Daedalians have prompted me to reveal these old diaries. Over the years since WWll I'm sure you've heard the queslion, "Well, can you recall what you were doing on December 7, 1941?" That date on Sunday at Pearl Harbor exactly coincided with Monday, December 8, at CLark Field in the Philippines. The Japanese surprise attacks took place at the same time yet separated by calendar dates. This is my first hand account of "that day in infamy'".

            You might be interested to know thal Gary Air Force Base (Gary Job Corps Center), San Marcos, Texas, is named after Lt. Edward "Tex" Gary and that Lt. Oren H. "Tuffy" Graham died on the Death March from Bataan. But for chance, either one of them could have been me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Colonel Edward M. Jacquet, USAF (Ret), flew 800 combat hours and 47 combat missions in the Southwest Pacific with the 19th Bomb Group.

            In early 1942, his B-17 was shot down with a relief crew aboard. At that time he was placed in command of a machine gun platoon of Philippine natives to guard the beach of Cagayan, Mindanao (where the "monkeys have no tails in Zamboango."').

            He was evacuated to the island of Java when he contracted malaria. He became operations officer for a new B-17 crews at Bandung and flew courier runs the length of Java. His aircraft was a Dutch Koolhaven. On his return to the U.S. in January 1943, he taught combat maneuvers to young pilots for over two years.

            Colonel Jacquet retired in March 1970 from the then USAF Security Service. He was graduated from Pontiac High School in Michigan and attended the University of Detroit for two years prior to entering the Air Force as a flying cadet in 1940. He has a B.A. in Education from the University of Omaha and a Master of Arts degree from St. Marys University.

Left: Ed Jacquet with son Edward III in front of the SAC B-52 now being displayed at Lackland AFB. Young Ed was a B-52 pilot and flew that particualar aircraft over Hanoi in 1972.

 19th Bomb Group Memories

            The Japs knew they had two big things to do before they could really set up their "Co -prosperity Sphere". First, they had to blast our fleet at Pearl Harbor -- only then could they claim the western Pacific Ocean as their own. Second, they had to demolish the 19th Bomb Gp.- - before they could invade the Philippines. They had to! And they did with more than 450 modern planes from Formosa and their best pilots flying them and surprise on their side.

 

19th Bomb Group      93rd Sqd of 19th BG

            But the 19th and our fighters in P-40s fought back and delayed the Japs and did their best. And flew away to fight again. And hurt and bled and died. And learned!

When the 19th went home in January 1943, they were sent to Pyote, Texas. There's a small museum there now that houses many of their records and memorabilia. Their story is a saga of national unpreparedness, confusion, bitterness and retreat, and yet the heroism, the courage, the effort and the humor shine through. As Writer Edmonds said in his fine book, "They Fought With What They Had". Above are a few photos just for the memories.

            The 93rd Bomb Squadron had a distinguished heritage which traced back to the 93rd Aero Squadron organized at Kelley Field in 1917. During WW I in France the pilots of the 93rd included 1st Lt Charles D. Olive, an ace who shot down 3 Fokker DVII’s in one day using his SPAD XIII. In 1039, the 93rd became a Heavy Bombardment Sqd and was last inactivated in 1963. The Sqd commander of the 93rd on Dec 8, 1941 was then Maj Cecil E. Combs.

            We'd like to thank M/Gen Gene Eubank and L/Gen John Carpenter for their interest and support in helping to put this story together.