WB\45AUTH\HJ28P-JH.DOC

Flight Crew #23, "City of University City"(*) Airplane 42-94026 M5

(*) Origianlly known as "Sound and Fury" before named "City of University City". It was later renamed "City of Rock Hill".

Crew #23 as of Mar 22 1945

Loc	Duty	Rank	Name	ASN	MOS	Home, 1992
B3	AC(2)	Capt	John S. Hancock	0-424263	1093	221 Brattle Rd, Syracuse NY 13203
B4	P	F/O	Leo V. Kirchmeier	0-775394	1091	PO Box 3424 Vislia, CA 93278
B2	N	1st Lt	Ruben Schwartz	0-730300	1038	dec
	B (1)	1st Lt	William C. Melkonian	0-741278	1035	unk
B5	B	2nd Lt	Dale L. Gordon	0-2067946	1035	Kerrville, TX
B6	FE	1st Lt	Edward C. Badger	0-465409	1028	Port Arthur TX
B1	RO	F/O	William F. Bronsend	0-2067937	0142	Unk
M1	R	Sgt	Marcus C. Saphian	17160705	2756	16316 Bellingham Dr Chesterfield MO 63017
M2	CFC	Sgt	Percival B. Bryan Jr	11079802	580	Madison CT
M3	RG	Sgt	Herbert C. Weber	36284616	611	1416 South 85th St West Allis WI 53214
M5	LG	Sgt	Walter D. Aldrich	32939208	611	Wilmington DL
M4	TG	Sgt	Albert R. Whisonant	14148079	611	Rockhill SC (dec)

F1				Grd Crew
F2				Grd Crew
F3				Grd Crew
F4	CC	Sgt	Alfred Hupp	Grd Crew
F5				Grd Crew
F6				Grd Crew

(1) Part of original crew during training, replaced by Gordon.

(2) After 21 missions, Hancock was reassigned to Wing HQ and Kirchmeier became AC;

crew completed full tour

The crew was originally part of the 28th Sqd and later reassigned to the 93rd Sqd.

The following is from Van Parkers book "Dear Folks". The introduction is by Van Airplane Commander Crew #22:

When I first took on the task of writing this book [Dear Folks] I informed my friend John Hancock of what I was about. Would he make a contribution, writing his version of our wartime association and experiences? Here is his "tongue-in-cheek" story.

Dear Parker family and associates:

While I appreciate the opportunity to set the record straight on a few matters, I feel somewhat handicapped in two respects:

(1) Not knowing what Van is planning to say, I can't be sure which of his recollections may require the most policing; and

(2) I understand that this is to be a family publication.

So I will confine myself to three or four episodes which may or may not have changed the course of history, in each of which he played a role which was highly significant in one way, or, in all probability, another.

Let's start on Guam at the time when one Gen. Curtis "Cigar" LeMay arrived to take command of the 20th Air Force -- or was it the XXI Bomber Command? Anyway, you may remember that B-29 Groups there to fore had been operating at their design altitudes of 30,000 feet or so and achieving a pretty meager return for much effort on the part of many people.

Enter LeMay. And enter Roberts, Blakeley, Parker, and Hancock, with orders to fly over Tokyo and Kobe, respectively, not at 30,000 feet, but at 5,000, in the middle of the night. P and H's orders, specifically, were to make a simulated bomb run from an IP (initial point) on an island in the harbor to the Kobe railroad station, taking radar scope pictures along the route. And then to go around and do it again. And then to go around and do it a third time if that seemed feasible.

The stated purpose of the exercise was to furnish guidance to crews looking at their radar scopes on a theoretical future bombing mission. Baloney. The real purpose, we concluded, was to see what kind of reception we'd get, how long it would take the Japanese to get their defenses working, and how effective they were. We soon found out.

The first indication that our visit -- it was about three o'clock in the morning -- would not come as a complete surprise came when our IFF (indicator of friend or foe) lit up about 100 miles from Kobe and soon afterward the all-night radio station we'd been homing in on went off the air. But we proceeded blithely onward, identified the IP on the radar screen, and proceeded on our run to the railroad station, dutifully taking scope pictures every couple of seconds. So far, so good. All was serene.

As ordered, we then made a big circle and started on run number 2 - and suddenly all hell broke loose. Every damned searchlight in the harbor came on at once. They were so bright that they even woke my bombardier, which was no mean feat. Little black puffs began to appear, accompanied by a sort of "blamming" noise. Since we were the only people there, it seemed apparent that we were the object of their attentions.

Well, despite these indications that we were unwelcome, we did complete run #2 and took a second set of scope pictures. We then conferred, very briefly, concluded that the quality of our photography was undoubtedly such that a third set of pictures would be de trop, and took our leave, executing those lumbering maneuvers laughingly referred to as "evasive action"; and headed homeward, unscathed, but possibly several pounds lighter.

And now we come to Captain Parker's part in this performance. Why was he there in the first place? My memory on this point is a little fuzzy, but I do recall that several of my crew members contended that his crew snored too loud in our shared Quonset and maybe it was in retribution for this. Anyway, there he was.

So we left the coast of Honshu and headed for Guam and everybody began to realize that they were pretty hungry -- for, after all, it had been quite a few hours since we had last eaten. We eagerly opened the box which our ever-indulgent group mess had provided for it's famished heroes. We found therein two loaves of stale bread and a can of grapefruit juice. A couple of our stronger crew members managed to penetrate the crusts and distribute hunks of bread; but the juice can defied all attempts to open it, and frustration had the whole crew in thrall -- when up stepped our passenger -- the resourceful Captain Van R. Parker, former Big Ten football star.

With complete disregard for his safety, he plunged his bench knife into the recalcitrant can, punctured it, and caused a fountain of the heavenly contents to cascade all over the auto pilot console. A throaty cheer went up from the parched crew men. We toasted each other in grapefruit juice to the triumphant strains of the Illinois "FIGHT SONG". Granted, the auto pilot smelled of grapefruit for some time afterward, but it was a small price to pay for this act of selfless heroism. And the postscript to this episode is that, as you may know, the whole damned 20th Air Force went in over Tokyo at 5,000 feet a couple of days later.