39th WAR STORIES

We'll share here some of the more interesting ones
we have heard during recent 39th reunions:

SCRATCH ONE C-47!

"One day in 1944 I was on the taxiway at Cyclops airstrip, Hollandia, New Guinea awaiting my turn for takeoff. While I waited, a pilot from my squadron, the 39th TCS, 317th TCG, performed a most bizarre demonstration of how to demolish the sturdy C-47 with which we were equipped. As the aircraft started to roll down the runway, I saw it veer off the runway at about a 45 degree angle going at full throttle. The left wing struck a coconut tree which sheared off and fell to the ground. The plane continued on, still at full throttle, collided with several palm trees, went up on its nose and caught on fire. The crew exited through the overhead hatch and escaped without injury.

The cause of the problem as related to me later was this: We had received a group of replacement pilots who had never been in a C-47 before, and one of them was assigned as co-pilot in this plane. The aircraft commander started the takeoff and called for the co-pilot to release the gear down lock safety, which was located on the cockpit floor. This was SOP (standard operating procedure) on the takeoff run. The co-pilot didn't know what he meant so the AC leaned down to do it himself, and that is when you-know-what hit the fan. It vividly demonstrated the importance of pre-flight briefing."

SOUNDS LIKE THE GOSPEL TRUTH!

One of our guys swears this one is true:

" One of the 39th's C-47s flew to Australia from New Guinea with a load of personnel on leave. It needed a 1000 hour inspection, but the Base Commander in Sydney wouldn't do it. He said, 'You flew it down, now you fly it back.'

Over the Coral Sea on the way home the old bird had problems, and the pilot had to shut down one engine. They had a pretty good load and were losing altitude too fast to make it into Port Moresby, the nearest airfield. Nobody wanted to ditch in the sea, so the pilot told the flight engineer to start jettisoning cargo.

The engineer tossed over just about everything that was loose, but they were still losing altitude. Everyone had lots of liquor on the return flight from leave, but the flight engineer decided to throw out only personal luggage and everyone's shoes and then checked with the pilot again. The pilot said that they could probably make it.

They did make it to Moresby OK and saved the liquor. The flight engineer never said whether the booze or the passengers were going overboard next. No doubt he gave it some thought!"

PERHAPS THE BEST WAR STORY OF THE WAR!!

This may be the war story to beat all war stories. We heard two versions of this story at the Salt Lake Reunion in 1993. This is sort of a blend of the two - so don't take everything as gospel!

Seems that back during WW II (about 1945) a couple of our intrepid 39th birdmen - guess we'd best not name names - were scheduled for an medical evacuation mission from Leyte island in the Philippines to Clark Field, about 300 miles northwest on the island of Luzon. Most everything north of Luzon still belonged to the Japanese at this time. The mission called for our boys to deliver four patients to Clark in one of our gooney birds (C-47s). The crew included two med-evac nurses.

Takeoff was uneventful and everything went just fine for awhile, but for one reason or the other (perhaps including a solid undercast), our guys had a little difficulty locating their destination. They finally let down through the clouds, flew some distance beyond their enroute time, and then started searching for a place to put it down and get some gas. By this time they were apparently well north of Luzon and out over the ocean. After a while they found an tiny island (which was actually closer to Formosa than Luzon) with a short airstrip and proceeded to enter the pattern.

A U.S. Army P-51 fighter who spotted them tried to raise them on the radio. It seemed that the island where they were trying to land was - surprise, surprise - occupied by the enemy! Unable to raise them, he tried buzzing them and was ignored. He even tried flying formation and signaling but got no response. Finally he backed off and fired a few machine gun bursts at them and, still getting no response, he fired into their engines. They had to ditch in the sea. One of our pilots got hit in the foot by a richochet, but was more angry than injured - because it ruined his brand new boots.

The wingman of the P-51 had been shot down by the Japanese while they had been attacking the Japanese airstrip before our birdmen arrived. He was in the water in his raft. Everyone in the gooney bird also got out of the airplane ok and into their life rafts, but the Japanese, who had been watching this fiasco from the island, began firing at them from the shore since they were not all that far away. After some furious paddling they got out of danger and, to make a long story only a little shorter, were rescued by the air-sea rescue folks who had been alerted by their P-51 attacker.

You can imagine the official response they received when they returned to base! The pilot of the P-51 received proper recognition and painted an American flag on his fighter (named "Bad Angel") along with some Japanese and Germans flags already there. Wonder if they gave him some sort of medal for shooting down an Army Air Force Gooney Bird?

The incident was written up in several magazines during the war, and the Reader's Digest version reported that one of the nurses on board was to have a date that evening with the P-51 pilot who shot them down! WOW!"

Now THAT is some kind of WAR STORY!!

A "DAILY" WAR STORY

Not all war stories are about dangerous combat missions. Some of the more interesting tales are about daily life'in the trenches', or more aptly 'in the camp', such as this one sent by Bill Pelligrino of Staten Island, N.Y.

"We had been in New Guinea for at least 18 months, morale was low, and everyone had the 'low down dumps'. One day apple pie was on the menu for dinner in the mess hall. This was really special (even though it was made with dehydrated apples!) since it was our first pie in almost two years. After going through the line, I carried my mess kit with the usual 'slop du jour' in one hand and my precious pie caressed in the palm of the other. I carefully set them down on the table and turned around to see 1st Sgt Townsend passing in front of our table. Some mischievous impulse caused me to reach for his pie hand, and I folded it around the pie so that it squished our through his fingers. Realizing too late what I had done, I quickly ran out of the mess tent with Sgt Townsend in hot pursuit. I weaved through the officers' mess tent and out into the jungle with Townsend still hot on my heels. The whole squadron was on their feet, and even the officers were making bets. Some twenty minutes later I collapsed, and Townsend got hold of my head. Somehow he still had the pie remains in his other hand and spread them all over my face and up my nose, almost choking me. The cheers from all the guys would have frightned off any Japs who may have been hidden in the jungle. As we lay there Townsend remarked to me that this was probably the break we needed in squadron morale. But neither of us had much of a taste for pie after that, and MY taste was all through my nose!"

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