Table of Contents

Armament Section Men by Harry Abernathy - 16th BG
The 485th Squadron by Harold Atkins - 501st BG
We Fought the "Battle of Boredom" on Guam by Bruce Beacher - 501st BG
My Most Memorable Mission by Clayton Bisnett - 331st BG
An Interview With Ray Blaskey - 501st BG
Ants in the Gun Turret by William Boggs - 16th BG
Brothers were on the Same B-29 Crew for Awhile by John H. Bye - 331st BG
"The Ghosts of Five-Nine-Three" by G.M. Withee - 331st BG
History of Crew of Swoose Squadron by Glen L. Clark - 501st BG
Crew #8 History by Roy E. Davis - 16th BG
There Was No Room in the Latrine by Woodrow Friddell - 331st BG
Post-Hostility Activities of the 21st Squadron by Sam Gillespie - 501st BG
Recollections by George R. Green - 501st BG
A Collection of Stories by Robert F. Griffin - 331st BG
A Squadron Commander's Story by Andrew Gordon - 331st BG
Westway Project by Ivan Gulick - 331st BG
Rainproofing Our Barracks by George E. Harrington - 315th HQ
Building a Chapel by George E. Harrington - 315th HQ
Memories by Ed Hering - 501st BG
The Admiral Nimitz Story by Boyd Hubbard - 501st BG
My Life in the 331st Bomb Group by Clarence Juett
Anecdote by George W. Johnson - 75th ASG
The Last of the Bombardiers (author unknown)
We Bartered with the Japs on Hokkaido Island by Walter C. King - 502nd BG
The Last Mission by Neveda Lee - 502nd BG
The Case of the Dream and D-Day in Europe by C.H. McCuistion - 315th HQ
Texans Talked Big in WWII of Did They? by C.H. McCuistion - 315th HQ
Wing Operations by John B. McPherson - 315th HQ
Double Rainbow as Memorial of "Indianapolis" by Larry McCarthy - 331st BG
Rotating Prop Chops Jeep by Larry McCarthy - 331st BG
The Eagle Pilots by J.C. Mitchell - 501st BG
My Uniform by George A. Salway
Ed Nelson's Stories by Ed Nelson - 16th BG
Monkeying Around by Max Rynearson - 502nd BG
Skeet Shooting by Lloyd Sciaroni - 331st BG
Maintaining the B-29 by Ralph Schell - 16th BG
R & R to Cocos Island by William Shine - 502nd BG
Crew 1102 Aborts the Takeoff but Completes Its Mission by Horatio W. Turner - 502nd BG
The Wartime Odyssey of Three Men Named Wilson by Willard Wilson - 331st BG
Excerpts from Letters to My Former Wife by George M. Withee - 331st BG
The Wreck of Crew 6C4 by George M. Withee - 331st BG
Everybody Remembers Kilroy by Who Remembers D.H. McGillicudhay by George M. Withee
Army 4263593 - Slicker 23 by George M. Withee - 331st BG
Hokkaido, Japan to Washington D.C. by George E. Akerson
Ready for Action, Living in Peace by Crew 816 - 501st BG
B-29 Crew Takes Wild ride
Thank You Letter from Former POW, Carol J. Bulow
Comments on 315BW (VH) Bombing Success Against Japanese POL Targets
      by Ed Sharkey - USAAF consultant on radar bombing

2

      One day in June of 1945, several of us, Harry Jerome Edwards of Johnstown, New York, John C. Hockaday of Detroit, Michigan, Charles E. Ohse, of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, Cecil G. Westberg of Mojava, California, and myself were out looking for war relics.
      We found a Jap skeleton and I had found a broken trench shovel. I was carrying the handle in my left hand to take back and nail in my ten pegs better, and was carrying the skull in my right hand.
      We were going through a coconut grove when the savannah grass was head high. About that time three Japs jumped across the trail and we could see the rifles and the hand grenades they were carrying. I do not know who was the more frightened - the Japs or us. Anyway, Hockaday and Westberg wanted to fight them barehanded, and Edwards and myself said it was time to return for supper. This was about 3 PM and we both knew supper was not ready until another several hours. About that time, Edwards, Ohse and myself started to run, and a bang came from somewhere and Westberg and Hockaday ceased yelling to come out and fight barehanded and ran with us. I do not know if any other men of the 16th Squadron, 16th Group ran from the enemy or not, but we five certainly did.
      Another time, we had gone to the movie, open air type, and when we returned to our tent, someone had been through it, and ransacked it. Robert G. MacDonald of Atlanta, Georgia, had left his wallet on a box in the tent, and I had left my razor out, and some stationery, and John C. Hockaday had left some stationery out. We think the Japs went into our tent as MacDonald had all the pictures in his wallet stolen and left the money. All the stationery was gone and my razor and a box of blades were gone. We reported it and was told it was Japs doing it as a GI would have taken the money and left the pictures. It was to hurt our morale, or so we were told.
      Also, as I was going up the gang plank on the SS Exchange, I told the 1st Sgt that I could not go overseas, as I was a minor, and he did not have my parent's permission. He told me to get my ass up the boat and to shut up. Needlessly to say, I did, only to get off the SS Exchange on April 14, or 28 days later, after going to Hawaii, Eneitwok, and on to Guam. We threw all our worldly possessions overboard into a LCVP and climbed down landing nets and went ashore. The first night there, Herbert E. Rowsey of Detroit, Michigan and myself pulled guard duty from midnight to 2 AM with empty carbines. No moon and we were walking a L shaped area, with a big fire at the end of the horizontal L part, and we were afraid to stay there as we were a perfect target. We stayed next to the jungle and all of a sudden it sounded like Solomon's Army coming through the jungle. We both lay down and shined a flashlight by holding up the light so if it were Japs and they shot, it would only hit an arm when in the beam of the light two beady eyes were coming toward us nodding from side to side and coming closer all the time. Then we noticed it was a three foot long lizard and guessed it was harmless. I wrote home about it the next day and the Intelligence Officer, Lt. Joseph W. Lewellen of New Albany , Indiana called me up about it as he said it would look like we came ill-prepared. He was wearing .45 and I asked him if he had any ammo and he said yes, and I asked him how he would have felt out there at night, no moon, and an empty rifle.

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      Hear Ye! Hear Ye! Listen my children and you shall hear a story of a yesteryear. No, no, its not Paul Revere, but it will sound just as good over a can of beer.
      One day in November 1944, there was gathered together in one room the most motley bunch of characters this world has ever seen. After calling Alexander's name three times and hearing nothing, Big Bill (Bill Chochrane, Sq CO) pulled out the last hair in his head and went to Hastings to drown his sorrow.
      Three days later, in roared Big Doc Alexander, bitching as usual. Needless to say, this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Big Bill and Big Doc (Jay Alexander). Four interpreters were shot by these feuding mountaineers as they tried to bring peace to the Squadron.
      At this time there were six crews: Pete Arnold, Big Doc Alexander, Jim (no hair) Chasey, Bill Baker, Duke Campbell, and last but not least bob Cotanch. This made up the A.C.'s. With these men came such notables as Jim Moore, Harry Carter, Pete (2 tour) Haney and a real character, Dick Martin.
      A few days later came Jack (Runt) Joseph, Super Haley, Big Moose Clark, Joe Chapman, Paul Mason, Glen (Silent) Huset, Pappy Baldwin, James Mitchell, Francis Roth, plus their crews.
      There is no need to mention the staff, as they had very little affect on the fine record of this squadron. We must add the name of one gravel agitation, Charles Neville, Park City, Kentucky's best still operator.
      Soon after these latter crews arrived, training started. The month of December was spent by getting everyone his flying time. The most notable thing to happen was our going to Ground School Christmas Day. This, of course, endeared us no end with the staff. Two crews spent Christmas Day in Cuba. there was much talk about this trip but the rest of us didn't get to go.
      The new year dawned with a lot of bloodshot eyes - some of them hadn't cleared when the men left Guam for home. January and February were spent in concentrated Ground School and standing by. Now and then a crew would fly. Some of the incidents that helped make this bunch of birdmen into crews were: Pete Arnold's stopover in St. Joe, Paul Mason's emergency landing at Carlsbad, Jay Alexander's stop at Las Vegas, Clark and Joseph's R.O.N. in Tulsa, Huset's stay in Denver, Chasey's stop in Wichita, and of course Bob Cotanch's stay in Chicago.
      In March we started Big Bill's Morale building program: PT twice a day and training films we'd seen five times before. Most of the radar men spent the month in sunny California at Q-7 school. Also crews started leaving for Jamaica a little training and a lot of drinking.
      The weather conditions were the best. Thundershowers lasted for six hundred miles of flight, and the flights were plotted so you could get full advantage of the storm.
      Once in Jamaica, things went well. We found out what a P-63 looked like. We had waves spotted as bombs, and most of us found out what a filthy hole Kingston was. On the good side there was a nice swimming pool, and everyone got a nice tan, and Duke Campbell's crew painted Miami red. One night they had the able assistance of Pete Arnold's crew.
      We all returned stateside with ten day leaves which were spent in various ways. A couple of the boys got married; Dick Martin and Teddy Wingate. But those that didn't, as well as those that were, had a very good time. On their return to the field they met the gracious lady that was to take them to combat, their aeroplane. It was theirs. They were going to live or die with her. After a few shakedown flights the squadron was processed to leave Harvard.
      And then it hit the fan. Saturday prior to our departure for Kearney, the squadron got drunk. Mr. Joseph, Jack's dad, did his best to stay with the boys, but fell behind. Chloe was very much in demand, and someone was laying somebody two to one.
      It was stated that Burhman was chicken, and fisticuffs resulted in the gym after a few eggs were heaved. Super Shit Haley did a very good job of refereeing as yours truly cheated on the time.
      The next night was the squadron beer party, which was attended by all. (It was compulsory.) This was a quiet night. Then Monday came. We left the next morning. This was the night to bid Harvard a fond farewell. Never had anyone carried on like Chasey and Adkins did that night. They drank whiskey, beer, milk, and generally raised so much hell that the boys are still talking about it.
      The next morning, the exodus to Kearney. Buses and cars were utilized. Then started the most orderly processing line of them all. When finished, you had all new gear, also one man picked your pocket while another made out a bill for whatever amount you happened to have.
      Then started the rough part of the whole deal, waiting. Some of the men kissed their wives good-bye so often that their lips were chapped for weeks. Harry "Pat" Tetak got blind one night. Everyone got to know the rest better, and the stay cost us a fortune. No wonder, they had a good club.
      And then the squadron started for overseas. One, two, or maybe four each day left. In rapid succession came Mather field and its Shack Shack, John Rodgers, and Honolulu (what a hole!) Kwajalein and its lagoon, and then came Guam. It was better than we expected, and most of us were pleased.
      The tents were already pitched when we arrived, but floor had to be built, and this too at least one day. Since there was no estimate on how long we would be in tents, some were quite elaborate affairs.
      The second day was Ground School. Much of the information was the same old stuff, but everyone was listening now since the subject under discussion might save their life in the very near future. This went on for three days. Then after a calibration mission and a night orientation mission the big day came. We were to hit Jap territory at last, a mission to Rota. Twenty bombs to be dropped by radar. The flak was nil to meager. No casualties resulted, either on the ground or in the air.
      Next came the mission to Truk. This was our fist night mission. Everyone wondered how it would go. No one stayed around to see if the Japs would shoot at them. There was no flak. Crew coordination was brought to a fine edge and things shaped up fast. After this came a daylight mission to Iwo Jima, dropping bombs on Pajores.
      Then things really began to hum, and on the 2nd of July the squadron participated in an Empire Strike. Six crews took part. Bill Baker was chased by a Baka Bomb or Venus, and several crews saw night fighters or stars. Results were poor. The target was Maruzen Oil Refinery, Shimotsu.
      On the 6th of July the same target was hit; in fact it was blasted. Ninety five percent destroyed. Eight crews took part and fewer stars were mistaken for fighters. The squadron began to talk and look more like a combat outfit. A few men even bragged about the fine record we had.
      Next on 9 July, nine crews hit Utsube River Oil Refinery, Shimotsu. bombing results were good. Flak was meager, but it looked heavy when they were shooting at you.
      Then came Tokyo on July 18th. Many men had trouble getting to sleep the night before. After the briefed altitude of 15,000 feet was give, men ewent around yelling Banzai and making like a Jap. Things went very well. weather was fine, a solid undercast. Flak was nil to meager. Twelve crews went out. Twelve returned. Results were fair. Several other targets were damaged. Most notable of these was a flour mill that was wiped out.  On the 15th of July, for a breather, after Tokyo, the target was the Nippon Oil Refinery at Kudamatsu. Fourteen crews were in on this strike which was 1/2 of the wing total. Seventy-five percent damage was credited. Flak was nil, and no one but the Japs were hurt.
      Then on 19 July came Flak Alley. Unlike most alleys, it was very well lighted. In fact, too well lighted. This was Amagasaki. The Nippon Oil Refinery was the target. It lay halfway between Kobe and Osaka. Twelve crews went out, twelve crews were scared, and twelve thank God. If it hadn't been, someone else would be writing this history. Results were good with twelve of fourteen buildings damaged plus the Synthetic Oil Plant.
      The next milk run was to be the Ube Liquefication Company at Ube. eleven crews took part. Results were good with fifty percent damaged or destroyed. The date was 22 July.
      Next, on July 25th came Tokyo again, and the roughest of them all. Flak was so heavy that Jap infantrymen were marching up on it and firing on the planes with small arms. Pappy Baldwin lost six feet of a wing. Barklay scratched his arm on an old rusty nail and got the Purple Heart. Paul Mason's "Dotties Baby" had some instruments shot out. Flash Haley looked down and saw a leering Jap yelling "Here comes Haley" and jumping for joy every time he fired a shell. Everyone lived through the ordeal for which we are all grateful.
      The next one came on 28th of July. It was Shimotsu Oil Refinery. Six crews took part. The entire target was damaged beyond repair. With sixty-nine percent destroyed being given as the figure for the records. Pete Arnold's "Liberty Belle" didn't fly well on two engines and returned to base soon after takeoff.
      On the 1st of August it was back to Tokyo. With eleven crews getting in their flying time for the month. Flak was meager to moderate and quite accurate. Minor damage was inflicted on most aircraft. But, no one was hurt, and no one received major damage. This was the third strike on these targets, and they were completely wiped out.
      Next came the trip to Ube on August 5th. Hiroshima took the Atomic bomb and survived as did Nagasaki. But the 485th with eleven crews and obsolete 500#G.P.'s were too much for Ube. The target sank. One hundred percent destroyed. This was the first known land target to be sunk by bombers.
      On August 9th the squadron returned to Amagasaki with nine crews, and with a little help from the rest of the Wing's eight-six planes, they completely destroyed the refinery there. Flak was meager to moderate and very inaccurate. Pappy (full throttle) Baldwin landed at Iwo as usual to refuel and hurry home.
      Then came the mission we were looking for. The last of the war. The target was the Nippon Oil Refinery at Tsuchizake near Akita located on the northern part of Honshu. Total distance was 3740 statute miles. The wing dropped a greater tonnage of bombs (953.9 tons) on this target than any other. For results, I quote from Fifteen Missions Oil "Results of photo-interpretation of damage brought the now familiar words, 'Almost completely destroyed or damaged.' Photographs disclosed that no portion of the target was untouched." While returning from Akita the crews received the news that the war was over. They flew from the war they had been waging into the morning dawn that meant Peace. We had worked ourselves...
      When we returned to Guam, liquor flowed freely. Those who drink, got drunk; those who didn't, stood by and took care of those of us who did.
      One more mission was flown. After back-breaking job of loading POW supplies at Saipan, they were ferried to the Empire and China and dropped to Americans and other Allies who, less fortunate than ourselves, had fallen into Japanese hands. No matter how tired the crews were on return, the mission was a pleasure.
      A few crews flew the Display of Force mission at the time of the signing of the surrender.
      Most everyone received a sightseeing tour to the Philippines, with Arnold's and Haley's crews staying for two weeks. These crews made an extensive study of Luzon and Manila and brought back a complete report to the rest of the squadron.
      In closing, I would like to say, the men in the 485th Squadron are probably the finest bunch of characters ever to be assembled in one unit in the history of the Army. We have come down one path, with one purpose in mind, for a year. Our mission has been completed. We now go our separate paths, with separate purposes. I hope everyone completes his mission well.

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      By the time our group made it to Guam the war was pretty well in the bag and our involvement in World War II was mostly "tail end Charlie" stuff. So this little tale will deal with a different type of battle - the battle we waged against boredom after the hostilities ceased.
      Our portion of the air war against Japan wasn't exactly a cake walk, but enemy resistance was greatly suppressed by that time and our missions consisted of mostly long, being over water flights to bomb oil refineries and storage centers at night. So I'll leave the telling of combat stories to others.
      However, we did become experts in combating boredom. Since most of our life on Guam was non-flight time, many of us remained there until May of 1946, nine months after the end of the war.
      I don't know how it was on the other islands but Guam was full of the natural life: toads, bats, lizards, and most of all, rats. The latter provided an immediate project to relieve our boredom.
      Perhaps because we were shunted to the northwest corner of the island along with all of the rest of the critters, we had an abundant share of rats. Our first quarters were makeshift shelters built right on the ground out of empty bomb crates and anything else that would serve as shelter. The rats promptly moved into our quarters with us and it immediately became a "them or us" situation as they proceeded to take over our living space, food, and water. The battle was joined.
      American ingenuity quickly asserted itself in the ensuing combat. Not only did a vast assortment of Rube Goldberg traps and killing devices appear, but the conflict became a competitive sport with rules and scoring added. Kills had to be confirmed by witnesses, carcasses, or body parts and the dispatch of the live captives was a spectator event much like the Spanish Inquisition. The victims were tossed into a steel drum containing water where they swam about until they became exhausted and drowned. "Kills" were recorded by painting rat silhouettes on the side of the drum just like we recorded bombing missions on the sides of our planes.
      There were also some hairy experiences in the air after the war. Many of the more experienced crew chiefs had enough time in for early discharge and aircraft maintenance became a problem. On one flight to Okinawa we loaded our B-29 with K and C rations for some troops who had been hit by a typhoon. On the way up we lost two engines and limped into Naha Airfield where we spent a week or more sleeping in our plane until replacement engines could be brought in.
      On another occasion we made a similar trip to the Philippines. Instead of engine trouble, this time we headed right into a typhoon and spent all night lit up with lighting and peppered with hailstones. Our radio and electronic equipment was damaged so badly that our navigator feared we might miss our destination and end up in China. But our luck held and we set down at Florida Blanca with a sigh of relief.

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      As a member of the 331st Bomb Group, 315th bomb Wing, my training was based on a one plane, one crew concept. At the end of World War II, September, 1945, the Japanese surrender left many prisoners-of-war stranded in camps throughout the islands of Japan.
      The military service were faced with the task of getting medical and basic food supplies to them as soon as possible. The missions were assigned to the Air Forces. Supplies were stockpiled and special wooden racks were built to hod the supplies withing the bomb bays of the B-29. Cables were slung under the racks and attached to the bomb release shackles. Parachutes were packed on top of the supplies with the straps anchored to the interior to insure deployment of the chutes when released by the bombardier.
      While this planning was in progress, my crew was picked by the Squadron Commander for a mission to China to bring out his father and others who were held as POWs. The tail gunner, Sgt Bye and the bombardier, myself, were taken off the crew because of the nature of the mission and to make room for two additional passengers. This placed us in pool, and we were available to fly with other crews as needed. I was assigned to composite crew for a POW mission to Ube, Japan.
      When the assigned B-29 was loaded, each crew member inspected his responsible areas. During the inspection of the bomb bays, I discovered a dangerous crack in the rack slung in the forward bomb bays. This condition was brought to the attention of the pilot. For some unexplained reason, he dismissed it as of no consequence. I was very much concerned because we had not carried cargo of this nature and I feared the problems it could cause, should it break loose and wedge in the bomb bay.
      Our takeoff was smooth and uneventful and we took up a course to take us close to Iwo Jima, which was approximately half way to Japan, and had an airfield in event we experienced any problems. Once past Iwo, we took a course to Ube, which is located in the southwestern section of the island of Honshu.
      As we approached the area, we encountered real bad weather. We tried to penetrate it to the inland sea on which the POW camp was located. We were in the clouds and radar was picking up mountains all around us. The pilot turned 180 degrees to exit the area. When clear of the weather, he climbed above the clouds took a course for the sea of Japan. This area was found to be covered with a thick cloud cover, but when an open area appeared, he dived through in such a maneuver that I prayed the broken rack would hold. The cloud coverage was low and we could not climb above 700 feet and still see the water. Fortunately, we located the entrance to the Shimoneseki strait. This navigable water separates the islands of Honshu on Shikoku and is 2200 feet wide at its narrowest point with hills on both sides. We flew at 700 feet through this pass and I was directing the pilot right and left to avoid the hills on each side.
      As we entered the inland sea area, we were able to climb to 1300 feet. Tension which I experienced earlier in the turbulent weather continued to haunt me. We finally located the POW camp, but could not climb higher. In passing over the camp, we could see the POWs milling around the area. The pilot repeatedly cautioned me not to drop the supplies where they would endanger the POWs. (This situation had occurred on previous drops by other planes.) I had no knowledge of how much the speed and wind drift would effect the descent of the racks and parachutes.
      On the first pass, I selected an open area north and adjacent to the camp, and dropped the rack from the forward bomb bay. On the second pass, the POWs were milling around the camp and the drop area, so I picked an area south of the camp and dropped the second rack. On the third pass, I directed crew members in the rear compartment when to push out a container of medical supplies. This container floated down onto the target area designated by the POWs. After all three passes, I felt confident that I had not caused injury to any of the prisoners.
      The pilot immediately took a course back to Guam and started a climb out of the area. He directed me to pull in the parachute straps so that the bomb bay doors could be closed. I tried to respond, but found that I was unable to rise out of my position. I turned to him and simply replied, "I can't." He quickly realized my problem and had ice water brought forward to me. After crew members pulled in the parachutes straps, I closed the bomb bay doors.
      The return trip was routine, but I sweated out the fuel supply for we had spent extra time in getting to our target area. We landed with minimum fuel. I was relieved to get back on good old terra firma.
      The mission with a composite crew was far more demanding than any combat mission I had flown with my regular crew. However, this was a humanitarian mission, I was proud to have successfully assisted in the delivery of those vital supplies to one of the many POW camps through Japan.
      Forty years later, I was pleased to hear the story of a former POW who was a recipient of such an air drop. While attending a reunion of the 315th Bomb Wing in Omaha, Nebraska, our group was approached by a gentleman with a question. He asked if we were a part of the 20th Air Force. When he was assured that we were, he emotionally, and dramatically thanked us for dropping supplies to his POW camp. He had been held in a POW camp in northern Honshu. His description of the air drop was compared to a railroad box car dumping supplies as he witnessed the bomb bay doors opened and the supplies came floating down. He stated that he had waited 40 years to thank the 20th Air Force for that air drop.
      My story is written to relate the experiences of what one air crew encountered during their mission to deliver those vital supplies. This mission was an over water flight of approximately 3000 miles and we were airborne for more than 14 hours.

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      Ray Blaskey entered the United States Air Force in July of 1944. After receiving basic training and then going to Bombardier School at Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama he was commissioned a second Lieutenant and assigned to the 315th Wing of the XXI Bomber Command (later to become the 20th Air Force). In December 1944, the Air Staff in Washington decided that the 315th's Boeing B-29's would be used to test the new AN/APQ-7 airborne radar known as "Eagle." The 315th was the first combat organization to be equipped with it. A part of this order also was to remove all the turrets and guns in the aircraft except those in the rear. By omitting the armament it was thought the aircraft could carry greater bomb loads, have greater speed and be able to fly at higher altitudes.
      Mr. Blaskey describes his first experience with this new theory; "We were in Jamaica testing this theory. It was thought that we could go to altitudes that fighters couldn't reach. We were at 25,000 feet when Jones (the pilot, Leonard D. Jones) radioed down to send up a P-39. The P-39 was built for maneuverability and, therefore, was thought that because of the high pitched wings to achieve this maneuverability it wouldn't be able to reach this high an altitude. Well in about two minutes here was this P-39 right off our wingtip. We climbed to 30,000 feet and right away there it was again. This pretty much proved that there would be fighters even up at those altitude."
      About a month later the 315th wing was assigned to Guam. Shortly before they were scheduled to go into operation the XXI Bomber Command decided that oil refineries on the Japanese mainland was to be the first objective of this organization.
      Mr. Blaskey describes the flight routine of a bombardier. "Guam was well suited for the takeoff of B-29's because of the cliff at the end of the south runway. The engines would get extremely hot during takeoff and with the cliff there we could drop down to just above the water where the air was cooler due to the evaporation taking place. This cooler air would help to cool the engines. Then we would start to climb, but slowly so we wouldn't overheat the engines. During the flight I helped the navigator. Sometime during the flight I had to go to the bomb bay and arm the bombs by pulling out a pin on each bomb that looked like a bobby pin. I liked to do this while it was still light out. We always carried 500 pound General Purpose Demolition bombs. We would fly toward a specific point on the coast called the landfall, then change heading so we would be going straight toward the target. At a point called the initial point the bomb run would start. Here is where I took over control of the plane. The Norden bombsight had three auto-gyroscopes, one each for pitch, roll and yaw. Then the radar, in addition to my sighting would spot the target while the gyroscopes kept the plane level and heading straight. All that had to be done then was open the bomb bay doors and release the bombs. As the bombs fell out our altitude increased because of the lighter load. Then we would change course, called break away and continue on until we reached a point on the coast which was called the lands end where we turned again to head home."
      The first strike against the empire by the 315th wing was against the Utsube River Oil Reinery in the city of Yokkaichi on 26 June 1945. Mr Blaskey says of this, his first mission: "LeMay (Major General Curtis E. LeMay, Commanding General of the XXI Bomber Command) set the bombing altitude at 15,000 feet and our method of attack was called synchronous radar bombing, which meant that the bombsight was used in conjunction with the radar equipment. A night mission was planned so we could takeoff and land in daylight. I remember that our radar went off right after takeoff, and the Loran went out a little ways from the target. Even with the radar failure we decided to go on and do visual or dead-reckoning bombing, depending on the circumstances. It was slightly overcast and we could see the fires started by the previous ships so we decided to do visual bombing. At the same time searchlights and antiaircraft guns opened up. Bombs away went smoothly but about two minutes after breakaway we very narrowly missed colliding with another B-29. Being right in the nose of the aircraft I was the first to spot it and it was only about 100 feet away. I yelled to the pilot to dive to avoid collision. The left gunner was thrown halfway through the camera hatch when we dived. He was throwing out rope, which was strips of aluminum foil that would throw off Japanese radar. The right gunner was knocked out for a second as he stepped in a hole in the floor of the ship when he was going to rescue the left gunner. The right gunner quickly recovered and pulled the left gunner out of the camera hatch. They administered first aid to themselves and were okay. We never did find out who was at fault in the near collision."
The target for their second mission was the Maruzon Oil Refinery. Mr. Blaskey's story; "Again our radar went out, only this time it lasted until we got to Iwo Jima. About thirty miles from the land fall the tail gunner picked up two enemy fighters about 1000 years away. We went into routine evasive action, but the fighter stayed right with us and closed to 500 yards. We increased our airspeed to about 230 MPH and the fighters fell back, but only for a second, then they were right back, 500 yards away. By this time we had passed the initial point which was the start of the bomb run, so we had to fly straight and level. The fighters made passes during the bomb run, putting a few holes in the wings, but most of their shots deflected off. After bombs away there was a fire ball accompanying the fighters. A fire ball was a Betty (Mitsubishi) bomber with a spotlight attached. This was supposed to blind our gunners and give a good target for the fighters to shoot at. We started violent evasive action, descending at 6000 feet per minute with an airspeed of 350 MPH. This is more than the plane was supposed to withstand but we lived through it."
      They flew 13 more missions before the Japanese asked for peace. All these missions were to destroy oil refineries and tank yards. The radar became more reliable and the bombing altitude decreased with more missions. An average of 95% of the aircraft in the 315th Wing bombed the primary target throughout these 15 missions, which is amazing accuracy and durability. Interrogation of Japanese leaders after the war brought a diversity of opinions as to the affects of the bombing except on one category - fuel. The 315th Wing played an important role of this crippling of the fuel industry in Japan.
After being discharged in April 1946, Mr. Blaskey returned home to Stevens Point, Wisconsin. He has taught mathematics at Antigo High School for the last 23 years.

NOTE: Ray Blaskey was the Bombardier on the B-29 "The Moldy Fig." The A/C was Leonard D. Jones.

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     A believe it or not happening occurred on Capt Ceronsky's B-29 #57 better known as "Capt Chuck."  The air crew before leaving the states had planned on bringing a small dog to Guam aboard the B-29.  Since dog food was necessary for the pooch, a good supply of Red Hart dog food was purchased in cardboard containers, metal cans not being available, and stored in the lower front gun turret well.  Because all guns were removed from the plane except the tail gun, this made an excellent storage space and would even prevent detection by final inspection for the pane to go overseas.  Somehow the dog never arrived on Guam and apparently the air crew forgot about the dog food.  After a few missions, a write-up report appeared on the maintenance form complaining of red ants in the cockpit area.  Upon removing the cover of the gun turret well, all that remained was empty Red Hart dog food cartons and a few red ants.  They had somehow come up the nose wheel, made their way to the gun turret well and consumed the dog food completely.

     Also a little GI ingenuity did occur regarding mechanics tools and an agitator for a washing machine.  We were told that the tools would be available when we arrived on Guam so to make sure we removed the trailing nacell from the right inboard engine and put in the above item,  sure enough we had the only spark plug wrench when the plane landed on Guam and a washing machine to clean some clothes.

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Larry Miller

July 23, 2006