Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [117]
Meanwhile, in four conventional bombing missions from August 1 to 14, LeMay launched over 2,600 B-29 sorties, losing only ten bombers. And there was more, as Lieutenant General Jimmy Doolittle’s re-formed 8th Air Force began arriving in mid-July. Though none of the fabled organization’s units deployed from Europe, its headquarters and Doolittle’s aura were enough to garner attention. Most of a B-29 wing and a full P-47 wing were established on Okinawa before the end of August.
Japan was increasingly faced with an apocalyptic aerial armada that truly could deliver Harry Truman’s promised “rain of ruin.” But still Tokyo hung on.
On Tuesday, August 14, the Marianas command put up 749 Superfortresses—the second highest figure of the war—and got all of them back. The world’s most destructive bombing campaign had become so routine that it operated with little more risk than most airlines. LeMay dispatched seven missions in two waves. In the first three missions, 418 Superfortresses struck urban arsenals and rail yards that afternoon.
The other four missions lifted off their island bases about the time the first wave arrived over Japan. The 315th Wing’s target was the Nippon Oil Company refinery at Tsuchizaki (also Tasuchizaki), nearly 300 miles north of Tokyo. The mission had been briefed and canceled while Tokyo and the Allies engaged in peace negotiations, and combat crews grew edgy. They lived in a twilight world, suspended somewhere between war and peace, hearing rumors both dire and dear. Finally the word came down: launch the mission.
That afternoon Frank Armstrong led again in his personal B-29, Fluffy-Fuz III. He took 141 bombers into the air of which 132 bombed the target. It was the longest unrefueled combat mission of the piston aircraft era: 3,740 miles from Guam to Tsuchizaki and back.
Ignoring inaccurate flak between 10,000 and 12,000 feet, the wing bombed by radar through a heavy undercast. By 3:40 that morning the last B-29s were on course for Guam, seven hours away.
At sea that night, in Shangri-La, Corsair pilot Dick DeMott recorded, “Rumors and reports all day that Japan has broadcast and has accepted our peace treaty. We still have not accepted it or acknowledged so we don’t know what the hell is going on. . . . I wish to hell we could find out if the Japs are surrendering before we go needlessly groping around over Japan again and lose more pilots needlessly. This routine is getting harder to take each time.”
August 15
Sunrise over Japan came at 4:35 A.M. on August 15, revealing a cloud-pocked sky with scattered showers. Task Force 38 carriers began launching combat air patrols and assembling two strike missions. Meanwhile, 336 B-29s were still southbound from the night’s missions.
Frank Armstrong later wrote, “As we returned from our strike, we listened to a stateside broadcast as an excited announcer described the victory celebration in downtown San Francisco. The war was over! Having led the first daylight bombing raid in the European Theater and the longest bombing raid the last night of the war, I had opened and closed the affair like a fan.
“Every man aboard our aircraft was outwardly jubilant, but inside each experienced mixed emotions. We wanted no more of war, but it was difficult not to think of those who had not lived to see the dawn of this day. These thoughts brought waves of sadness, irony and gratitude. Too, there was a sudden surge of awe. Some of us had been in the business of killing for nearly four years. How would we adapt to a peaceful existence, and how much would we regret the havoc we had wrought, even though it had been absolutely necessary?”
Emperor Hirohito had