Introduction -- A ten year old boy named Matthew requested a "war story" from my Dad. This is a reprint.
June 17, 1998
Hello Matthew....
So you’re ten years old! To me that always seemed to be sort of a magic age for some reason or another. I remember a lot of things I was involved in at that age. For example I built my first model airplane which I designed myself. It didn’t fly but I had fun and learned a little bit about aerodynamics, and it was at that time I made up my mine to learn to fly full size airplanes someday.
I had a cousin a year older than I, and he was just as crazy about airplanes as I was. When we had enough money saved we would buy a certain paperback in serial format called “G-8 And His Battle Aces”. The setting was always an airfield close to the ‘front lines’ in France during World War One. G-8 was always getting himself into trouble of some kind like having to land behind German lines and getting captured and going through all sorts of scary experiences to get home again, and boy there wasn’t a German fighter ace in the air that could shoot down ole G-8 flying his S.P.A.D.---- The year was 1932 and the world was just beginning to smolder into what was to become another war bigger than what my hero was involved in.--- and not in my wildest imagination did I ever think that eleven years later I would be fighting Japanese “Zeros” in the sky over China, flying P-38s, using some of the same flight tactics as my old story-book hero.
I’ll tell you about one of my missions which did not involve air-to-air combat, and no one got hurt that I am aware of, but really had the adrenaline flowing at times. It was successful but could have been a complete disaster.
It was Christmas day 1944--- but before I get into the mission itself I need to give you a little background which adds to the drama a bit. During that time in China, because of the territory occupied by the Japanese, the only way anything could be brought into China was by airplane. All the fuel, bombs and ammunition, medical supplies---everything had to be flown in. What we ate was what was available at the time which depended in part on the growing season. The details of the diet are not important. What really mattered was that Christmas dinner as you and I know it just wasn’t possible without some clever planning. A couple of months earlier four of us were sent to Calcutta, India to ferry back new P-38s. This airplane had the ability to carry tremendous loads attached to the bomb shackles including two fuel tanks that would hold 310 gallons each. That much external fuel was not needed along the trip so we modified one tank on each airplane, with a detachable door, so that we could fill the tank completely with canned food which we got at a huge Army supply center in Calcutta. We had enough Christmas (and other) food goodies for the entire squadron to really celebrate. The turkey was canned, but turkey none the less, and not the usual pork and rice.
So,OK, it’s now Christmas morning and no missions were scheduled AND the weather was so bad we didn’t even have anyone standing alert at their aircraft in the event of an air-raid. About mid morning a message came in to send five airplanes on a mission to “beat up” a certain Japanese airfield on Hainan Island, which extends down into the South China Sea. It was my turn as mission leader and I was irate because of several things, not the least of which was the thought of missing Christmas dinner. From a practical standpoint there was a question of being qualified for such a mission. We were a Day-Fighter squadron, and had neither the equipment nor the pilot qualifications to operate in conditions involving flying in weather or at night. These were the types of missions the four-engine bombers flew routinely.Also, it would take precious time to prepare the airplanes, which involved changing the external fuel loads and loading ammunition appropriate for this mission.The best I could calculate was that if everything went smoothly we would arrive at the target just before nightfall.
I contacted a friend in 14th Air Force headquarters who worked with us a lot and asked him to try to persuade someone to postpone this crazy mission until at least the next morning. He was aware of the situation. He said that General Chenault, Commander of the 14th Air Force, the number one tiger himself laid that mission on to show the Japanese that we were capable and willing to strike one of their strategic bases , on a long mission, with a very small force, on one of the holiest of our holidays---so I picked four volunteers, briefed them on the mission, and we finally got airborne.
We had to start out at about 500 feet of altitude because of the weather but about an hour out we found a thin place in the clouds which enabled us to climb. Our enroute altitude was generally 18,000 feet because we had a fairly good idea of wind conditions that would affect our flight. By the time we reached altitude the cloud condition below was solid overcast again, which meant that we had to rely strictly on clock and compass for navigation.About half way to the target, about the time we should be crossing the French Indo-China (Vietnam) coastline one of the pilots pulled up beside me to signal that one of his engines had started to overheat. The condition was visible because there was a thin whispy white trail of engine coolant from a pressure relief valve. It was squadron policy in such situations to send another plane back with the cripple (they got home alright). We did all this by hand signals so we could maintain strict radio silence. I didn’t like being down to only three but we chugged along.
As the clock was winding down to target time I began to make out an irregularity in the cloud layer ahead of us. I guessed right that we were nearing the island and that the cloud buildup was probably caused by the temperature difference between the ocean and the land mass. We were soon flying directly across the island but couldn’t see it yet, then the cloud condition became broken and we could see water below. I had some scary thoughts as to where we might not be. I started a slow circle and saw the outline of the island below. WOW, what a relief, at least we weren’t lost out over the South China Sea somewhere.My wife said it was just like the parting of the Red Sea for Moses. We looked down and the clouds had parted. I maintained radio silence---let’s not give them a freebie in case they didn’t know already that we were there. I gave the signal and we slowed up and dropped our external fuel tanks, put down our dive brakes , and headed down.
I spotted a landmark which consisted of a very small dock facility with a rail line that ran directly to the airfield we were after. Piece of cake--just follow the the ‘yellow brick road’. We came in under the thin cloud cover at about 450 miles per hour. The cloud ceiling was about 700 feet and the visibility was pretty good. No need for radio silence now so I told the guys to stay loose and be particularly alert for any other aircraft in the air( it’s someone’s good fortune that there were not). As I remember it was about 25 miles to the target and we would be there in about four minutes. Flying that long at level flight was costing us precious airspeed,so we set the engines for combat and bored on in. I instructed as to what maneuver we would follow upon completing the first pass, and tried to say something funny to break the tension.
Now, Mat, we were probably on target no more than eight minutes at the very most. That’s long enough to fire all your ammunition and do all the damage you’re going to do and not get shot down by ground fire. And when everyone gets home and is being critiqued individually as to what happened everyone has a chance to learn what each of the others did.--- The first thing I remember was seeing tracer bullets coming our way as we neared the airfield boundary. No large shells were bursting around us (yet) so it was not too distracting. I chose a radar unit dead ahead and fired into it. I could see good strikes all over it so it didn’t require any more attention. As I was preparing to fire at the radar I noticed that I was right over two fighter aircraft parked beside the runway. When I came back around one of the others had beat me to them.They were both on fire, but I now had a good view into a large aircraft hanger in which there were several airplanes. I directed that we concentrate our firepower through the open hanger doors. You can imagine what damage could be done with all the .50 caliber armor-piercing incendiaries and our 20 MM cannon high-explosive incendiaries bouncing and zigzagging and exploding around inside that hanger. Wow! It was a dream target. We probably made four passes.
By now though we had attracted the attention of a large gun boat in the harbor nearby.I had not noticed it before.It started belching out anti-aircraft stuff. I mean the exploding kind. I had strafed airfields before and had been able to fly inside the burst range of the anti-aircraft fire so that it would have taken a direct hit to get me rather than an exploding shell . But those guys had stuff busting all around us, and then they started firing WP(white phosphorous)at close range---it was time to go home.
I instructed the guys to head West, get as low to the ground as possible until we got out of range, then on my signal to zoom up through the thin overcast one at a time and we would assemble on top. I made a partial turn so I could take a quick look back and try to get an assessment of the damage. The radar was burning merrily, so were three aircraft along the runway and the hanger was a roaring inferno. Mission accomplished! But when I turned back in the cockpit I was headed straight for a haystack. I mean an actual old fashioned haystack you are accustomed to in America. A HAYSTACK! There is no time to think. Just react by yanking back on the flight controls---I went through just the top of it with my propeller tips, not enough to cause any damage. The guys behind me said it happened so suddenly no one had time to yell, but there sure was a big haystorm. I told them later that what they were thinking was that the fool was too close to the ground to be looking anywhere but straight ahead anyway.
O.K., now we are on top, climbing back to altitude and at the same time assessing what damage we had sustained. We looked each over carefully to be sure no one was losing fluids of any kind, that is , fuel, oil, or engine coolant. We were alright in that respect. We all had holes shot in the airframes here and there, but our controls were responsive so we knew the flight cables were good enough not to cause worry. But my big worry now though was how to get these brave men home , in the dead of night and without any navigational equipment. At our altitude the sun was disappearing rapidly out of a clear sky, and I remember thinking that on the ground it was night time, and dark, and as my older brother used to say “...dark as the inside of a goat”, and it would still be at least three hours before we could possibly get home.
We had a low frequency radio band which was not always dependable. I fiddled with it trying to raise a friendly voice and give a position report but didn’t have any luck. I could hear voices but nothing seemed to be directed my way. We chatted a little back and forth between us as a morale booster, but no one felt like telling a funny joke or anything. When I calculated that we should be about 30 minutes out, the sky condition beneath us was becoming clear and we could see the dim lights from an occasional village. What I was now hoping for was to see the flashing beacon from an airbase, and I assigned a sector for each of us to scan instead of everyone staring straight ahead. Soon the pilot on my right said that he thought he saw a flash ahead and to our right. I started a turn in that direction and sure enough there was another. We rolled our wings level in that direction and flew on, but we didn’t see any more flashes, but soon I realized that we were flying over a very large lake. There was enough reflection from starlight to make it out.BINGO! I knew where we were. We were near a large air field used by the Air Transport Command. We were about 30 miles from home but it would have been insane to pass up this chance to land. We turned toward the shoreline where we knew the field to be, and I called the control tower for landing instructions. After a pause we were told to go to Kunming (our base) because they did not have facilities to accommodate combat aircraft or crews.I declared our situation to be an emergency and requested that they turn the runway lights on so we could land. They refused on the grounds that they were under a Red Alert expecting a bombing raid. They said that the Chinese air-raid net had been plotting heavy engine noise progressing toward that air base for over an hour and it was about 40 minutes out. I accepted that in good faith because I knew that no ground tracker could have heard us overhead at 18000 feet.That was also the reason they had turned off the rotating beacon ---But 40 minutes! I could land and be in bed in 40 minutes!Well Mat, I’m not going to tell you how the dialog went for about five minutes between me and the tower officer,but I made a threat that he could not ignore, and he turned on the lights long enough for the other two to land then turned them off when I was about half way down on final approach.My two buddies had parked together because they had the advantage of better lighting. I parked close by and after some whistling and yelling we were joined again. I still wanted a piece of that tower bunch so that’s where we headed. When we arrived I found that the tower officer that night was a major. I was a captain so I didn’t have much clout, especially on his turf.
One lucky thing happened though. A good friend of ours who was our former flight surgeon came into the tower. He had heard the unmistakable sound of P-38s and expected to see friendly faces. He was a major also and when he sensed the antagonism he took me by the arm and ushered us out, then took us to his tent and scrambled some eggs for us over a Coleman stove.---Christmas dinner at last! The heavy engine noise did not result in a bombing raid after all.They went back the other way.
We got home the next day and gave our reports and everything became normal again. Each of us was awarded the Air Medal. It was my 59th mission. I flew 28 more before coming home. One thing that bugged my crew chief from that time on though was how I managed to bring back hay straw stuck to the front of my oil and coolant radiators. He was never satisfied with the truth.I should have told him that is was secret between me and ole G-8.
Well, Matthew, that ends the story. When my combat tour had ended I was credited with five air victories and seven aircraft destroyed on the ground. The picture I am sending was never brought up to date, so it is shy one air victory.---Eula D.was my mother’s name.
The very best of everthing to you.
Keith Mahon
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