25 June 2010
 
At the Plate


(Big Leaguer Joe Gordon Discusses a Call with the Ump on Tinian. USAAF photo.)

It is the first anniversary of Pop Icon Michael Jackson’s death, and the 60th of the Sunday the North Koreans swept across the DMZ, headed south for Seoul.
 
The King of Pop is doing pretty well, they say, and his death apparently was a good career move. The Korean War issue is still an open one, and this strange, considering that the generation that fought it is mostly passing away. The tensions of passing Kim Il Song’s bloody legacy along to the third generation of Kims to sit on the throne could make the peace unravel, and it makes me uneasy.
 
Having grown up when all that seemed settled and consigned to the bins of dry fact, it is a little astonishing to speak to the men who won the war before that one, the ones who had to step up to the plate and face what was coming. It is amazing to visit the time through the eyes of men who were actually there- guys like my pal the Admiral and Bill McCullough, who could not see what was coming.
 
Life in the forward area of the war had its own rhythm. Bill maintained the gun systems and tried to avoid blowing his fingers off. The Admiral was in a staff billet on Guam, trying to make sense of what was happening to the Japanese war machine under the onslaught of the Super Forts.
 
He said one of the staff’s favorite pastimes in non-duty hours was sampling the mess hall of other commands.  “The CINCPAC mess was on C rations (everything from cans), and frequently left something to be desired.  Other activities, especially the SeaBees, were much better off -- real scroungers that made for a better life.”
 
He looked off through the window to another time. “Our favorite mess was 20th Bomber Command, because they had butter flavored with cheddar cheese, the only place on the island where this was available.  All other butter was uuuggghhh.”
 
He grimaced at the memory of the taste of the ersatz spread. “ At the end of our normal work day, we'd jump into the Jeep and head for Northwest Field to watch the night strikes launch, and then visit the mess hall before returning to Nimitz Hill.  Frequently, we'd go out early the next morning to witness the recovery of the (often damaged) aircraft, but we didn't stay for breakfast.  Had to get back to work.”
 
That work was advising the 313th Bomb Wing on targets to put to the torch. Went on through the long sweltering summer.
 
The Big Leaguers were still striding up to the plate to play exhibition games, though they had military duties as well. When the 27-game season was done, Stan Rojek of the 73rd Bombers won the batting champion with a .363 average. Enos Slaughter of the 58th Wingmen finished second at .342 with teammate Joe Gordon finishing third at .328 with eight HRs. Lew Riggs, skipper of the 313th Flyers hit .314, but led all hitters with 19 RBIs.
 
The planes roared out each day, and endless stream that seemed would never end. On August 5th, 1945, the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines deployed for the duration of the war in the Pacific woke up on their side of the dateline pretty sure that they were ultimately going to get fed into the biggest meat grinder in the history of the world.
 
By the time the sun sank into the ocean on the 9th of August, it was a pretty good bet that they were all going to live.
 

(The Hiroshima blast. AAF picture)

The one-two punch of the Atomic Bombs made an incandescent flash that burned right through one reality and transformed everything.
 
I asked Bill and the Admiral what they thought at the time. Bill was a buck sergeant, and he said there was no inkling something special was going to happen. He said there was a leaflets on the wall of the squadron Post Office announcing the destruction of Hiroshima, and the astonishing equivalent number of tons of high explosive the Atom device had yielded in the middle of the city.
 
Bill said the leaflet reported the explosion as being around 15,000 tons of TNT, which is a number that is hard to wrap a buck sergeant’s mind around.
 
The Admiral was an officer, and a college graduate. I asked him if the Pacific Fleet HQ know that something big was in the wind.
 
“No,” he said. “Not really.  I know that a hand-full of the seniors knew and maybe Captain Eddie Layton, the Fleet Intelligence Officer, was included in that number, but I didn't know. It didn't take long to adjust to the reality of the situation, however.”
 
“Our Fleet Gunnery Officer had gone back to New Mexico to witness the test at Trinity Flats, and he brought back a film to show Fleet Admiral Nimitz.  He shared it with the top five or so people on the staff.”
 
“In my daily briefing to the Staff Conference, I reported the Japanese public reaction to the events as it was intercepted on their Home Radio, and I did note the satisfied look on the face of FADM Nimitz.  And, in the days immediately following there were interesting events culminating in the Japanese final give-up on August 14 -- and that's another story in itself.”
 
I nodded, thinking that was something we would have to cover at Willow’s dark paneled bar before long.
 
Back on Saipan, Bill McCullough was counting the number of days he had deployed, and realized he would not be among the first to leave on Operation Magic Carpet, the mass return of the men who had been in the war zone the longest.
 
With the shooting over, Bill got the word that he would be headed to Guam for duty as the high-time airmen in the Theater got to go home first.
 
There is always a footnote, of course, even if it is a grim one.
 
On 18 August, four B-32 Dominators were tasked to conduct a photo recon mission against targets on the Kanto Plain around Tokyo, and test compliance with the cease-fire that would precede the formal surrender.
 
Two B-32’s had to be scratched due to mechanical problems. If you have never heard of that particular model aircraft, you would not be alone. The war that appeared to be on the verge of ending was so vast that everything had a “Plan B.” The Dominator program was the back-up to the B-29 Super Fortress project, set in motion to ensure that a long-range bomber would be available to meet President Roosevelt’s commitment to the Allies.
 
The Imperial Japanese Navy responded by launching everything they had. A formation of 17 aircraft, consisting of the venerable A6M Zero and three N1K2-J Shiden-Kai fighters attacked the two Dominators.
 
I cannot say that fighter ace Saburo Sakai was a pal, but I did have the opportunity to meet him in 1979. He said in an interview long after that they were concerned the Dominators were going to spread a few more bombs on the devastation.

(Sadamu Komachi. IJN picture in USN archives)

Sadamu Komachi was on the flight as well, and like Lt. Sakai, had been badly wounded but returned to service at the bitter end. He bagged 14 Americans in the course of his career, and he “could not bear to see American bombers flying serenely over a devastated Tokyo.”
 
I cannot entirely blame him. Dominator call-sign Hobo Queen II (tail number 42-108532) was flying at Flight Level 20 when the Japanese swept through. It was undamaged, and claimed three kills on the formation. The other Dominator was flying 10,000 feet below. Sakai was very good at what he did, and managed to put several hundred rounds into the bomber as they swept past on the last mission the Imperial Navy would ever fly.
 
Just after 2 p.m. on August 18, 1945, U.S. Army Sergeant Anthony J. Marchione bled to death in the clear, bright sky above Tokyo. He died like Snowden did in Catch-22, quietly, cradled in the arms of a buddy. He was 19, the last official casualty of the Pacific war.
 
The next day, propellers were removed from all Japanese fighters in accordance with the terms of the cease-fire agreement. There would be no further incidents.
 
The Admiral got a chance to visit Japan the day after the Surrender. The Big Leaguers cleared out and were home in November to prepare for the 1946 season.
 
Bill McCullough spent a month at Northwest Field on Guam, and then boarded an LST for the long slow ride back to America. They were on cots on the tank deck, but no one cared about the quality of the accommodations.

(IJN Heavy Cruiser Atago. USN Archives)

Bill said an Imperial Navy Cruiser pulled up next to them in the night, bristling with weaponry. They were there to surrender, but the sight was unsettling, given the experience of Tony Marchione.

(Duffle Bags being loaded for the trip home. US Army photo.)

The endless Pacific churned under the keel of the landing ship, and they arrived in California on the 15th of December. The Air Corps spent a few days on out-processing, and produced train tickets for San Antonio, where three more days of paperwork awaited.
 
Bill McCullough arrived in Gober, Texas, at the intersection of Farm roads 271 and 68, in southeastern Fannin County on 24 December,1945.
 
He said it was the best damn Christmas present ever.
 

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Subscribe to the RSS feed!