Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [42]
For sheer distance the little-known “battle of the islands” had no precedent—720 statute miles one way. There had been previous interisland air battles, but the 1941–42 aerial siege of Malta was conducted by Axis aircraft from Sicily only fifty-five miles away. Far greater distances typified the Solomons campaign of 1942–43, when Japanese bombers flew 650 miles down the chain from New Britain to Guadalcanal. However, the longest stretch between those islands was 180 miles, and most lay within fifty miles of one another.
There was almost nothing between Saipan and Iwo Jima.
The industrious Japanese observed December 7 with another surprise attack. Mitsubishi Bettys from Iwo Jima staged two raids on Saipan: one at four in the morning and the second ten hours later. The raiders did more strafing than bombing, but that was bad enough. Though six Bettys were downed, they destroyed three B-29s and badly damaged three more. Obviously something had to be done—and it was.
The next day more than sixty B-29s joined 100 7th Air Force B-24s in Sledgehammer 1 to smother Iwo’s three airfields beneath 800 tons of bombs. The Liberators carried most of the weight during the ensuing campaign, though the Christmas Eve Rockcrusher mission added thirty more Superfortresses. Three more B-29 missions in January and February knocked out one field and further damaged the remaining operational base.
Providentially, no Superforts were lost during the preventive efforts against Iwo, though a few B-24s succumbed. The Bonin Islands were among the worst places for Americans to be captured: at least one Liberator crewman who survived his shootdown was killed by Japanese who used him for bayonet practice.
Meanwhile, on December 3, Hansell put up eighty-six Superforts for the third Tokyo mission, again hitting Target 357, the Musashino plant. Though 85 percent of the attackers attempted to bomb the primary target, just 2.5 percent hit it.
Many of the Japanese interceptors concentrated on the 500th Group led by Colonel Richard T. King in the Rosalia Rocket. Major Robert Goldsworthy’s plane was shot down with just three survivors, including Colonel King, a prize catch for Japanese intelligence.
Lieutenant Hugh Mcnamer’s unnamed plane was running in to the target when it was swarmed by interceptors. They hit the bomber repeatedly, causing the landing gear to extend and the bomb bay doors to open prematurely. The crippled aircraft drew unwanted attention—as many as fifty Japanese pilots smelled blood, making pass after pass. They shot large pieces off the sturdy B-29, which was unable to drop its bombs. Nevertheless, Mcnamer and his crew shoved up the power and slowly outpaced their tormentors. At length the bombardier salvoed his load and the crew began lightening ship. After dumping everything not fastened down, the crippled bomber reached Saipan, making an emergency landing on the B-24 runway.
The mission lost five bombers and most of four crews, including those that ditched from battle damage or fuel shortage.
In early December O’Donnell convened a meeting of his brain trust to discuss progress of the 73rd Wing’s operations. The 200 or more airmen included his squadron and group commanders plus the lead crews. Despite their cautious relationship, O’Donnell also invited Hansell and some of his staff officers to attend.
Sitting quietly, Hansell listened with growing disbelief at Rosie O’Donnell’s rosy assessment of the wing’s performance to date. When O’Donnell invited his boss to address the assembly, Possum Hansell unloaded both barrels of his verbal shotgun.
“I’m in sharp disagreement because in my opinion you people haven’t earned your pay over here,” he began. “Unless you do better, this operation is doomed to failure.”
Hansell’s bluntness shocked those who knew him as a good-humored optimist. However, aside from his doctrinal differences with O’Donnell, he had previously declared his dissatisfaction with results to date, acknowledging that there was still much to learn. Now, openly contradicting