World War II: The Autobiography

by Jon E. Lewis

  It was this kind of lightning mobility that was necessary to realize the full potential of airpower. To achieve it meant that I would always have to operate on a skeletonized basis with airmen doubling in ground duties and a few key men doing the work of an entire staff. It meant that I could never afford the excess staff personnel required by more orthodox military organizations.

  It was this ability to shift my combat operations six hundred and fifty miles in an afternoon and a thousand miles in twenty-four hours that kept the Japanese off balance for four bloody years and prevented them from landing a counterpunch with their numerically superior strength that might easily have put my always meager forces out of business.

  We had little strain on our patience for the first pay-off on these tactics. December 19 passed quietly with three P-40 reconnaissance patrols over southern Yunnan but no sign of life from the enemy. At 9:45 A.M. on the twentieth my special phone from the Chinese code room rang. It was Colonel Wong Shu Ming, commander of the Chinese Fifth Air Force and Chinese chief of staff for the A.V.G. His message said, “Ten Japanese bombers crossed the Yunnan border at Laokay heading northwest.”

  From then on the battle unfolded over Yunnan as it had done a hundred times before in my head. Reports filtered in from the Yunnan net as the enemy bombers penetrated deeper into China.

  “Heavy engine noise at station X-10.”

  “Unknowns overhead at station P-8.”

  “Noise of many above clouds at station C-23.”

  Position reports recorded on our fighter-control board added up to a course designed to bring the enemy bombers to about fifty miles east of Kunming, from which point they would probably begin the circling and feinting tactics designed to confuse the warning net before their final dash to the target.

  I ordered the Second Squadron to make the interception. Jack Newkirk, of Scarsdale, New York, led one four-plane element in search of the bombers while Jim Howard, of St. Louis, son of former medical missionaries in China, led another four-plane formation on defensive patrol above Kunming. Sixteen planes of the First Squadron commanded by Robert Sandell, of San Antonio, Texas, were held in reserve in the stand-by area west of Kunming, ready to join the fray at the decisive moment.

  I fired a red flare sending the Second and First Squadrons into the air and drove with my executive officer, Harvey Greenlaw, and interpreter, Colonel Hsu, to the great timbered clay pyramid looming above the grassy mounds of a Chinese graveyard on a gentle slope overlooking the field. This was our combat-operations shelter with a duplicate set of radio and phone communications. Inside the dark, dank interior we studied the plotting board by the light of matches held by Greenlaw while Hsu took phone reports from the Chinese net. Outside, the winter air of the Kunming plateau was crisp and clear. Scattered puffball clouds floated lazily above the city at 10,000 feet. Weather reports to the south indicated a solid overcast brushing the mountain peaks.

  This was the decisive moment I had been awaiting for more than four years – American pilots in American fighter planes aided by a Chinese ground warning net about to tackle a formation of the Imperial Japanese Air Force, which was then sweeping the Pacific skies victorious everywhere. I felt that the fate of China was riding in the P-40 cockpits through the wintery sky over Yunnan. I yearned heartily to be ten years younger and crouched in a cockpit instead of a dugout, tasting the stale rubber of an oxygen mask and peering ahead into limitless space through the cherry-red rings of a gunsight.

  Suddenly voices broke through the crackling radio static.

  “There they are.”

  “No, no, they can’t be Japs.”

  “Look at those red balls.”

  “Let’s get ’em.”

  Then maddening silence. I ordered Sandell’s reserve squadron to dive to Iliang about thirty miles southeast of Kunming along the Japs’ line of probable approach. There was nothing more on the radio. The Chinese net reported the bombers had reversed course and were heading back toward Indo-China. Sounds of gunfire were heard, and the heavy fall of Japanese bombs in the mountains near Iliang was reported. There was nothing to do but return to the field and wait.

  Chinese were already streaming back to the city from their refuge among the grave mounds, incredulous that no bombs had fallen. Howard’s patrol over Kunming came down. They had seen nothing. Newkirk’s flight returned, sheepish and chagrined over a bad case of buck fever on their first contact with the enemy. They had sighted the Jap formation of ten gray twin-engined bombers about thirty miles southeast of Kunming, but for a few incredulous seconds could hardly believe the bombers were really Japs. The bombers jettisoned their bombs, put their noses down for speed, and wheeled back toward Indo-China. By the time Newkirk’s flight recovered and opened fire, the bombers had too big a lead – too big that is for everybody except Ed Rector. The last the other pilots saw of Rector he was still chasing the Japs at full throttle.

  Finally Sandell’s squadron came straggling in. From the whistling of the wind in their open gun barrels and the slow rolls as they buzzed the field, we knew they had been in a fight. They had sighted the Jap formation in full retreat over Iliang about thirty miles southeast of Kunming, scuttling along on top of a solid overcast with Rector still in pursuit.

  As the P-40s dived to attack, everybody went a little crazy with excitement. All the lessons of Toungoo were forgotten. There was no teamwork – only a wild melee in which all pilots agreed that only sheer luck kept P-40s from shooting each other. Pilots tried wild 90-degree deflection shots and other crazy tactics in the 130-mile running fight that followed. Fritz Wolf of Shawano, Wisconsin, shot down two bombers and then cursed his armorer because his guns jammed.

  When he landed and inspected the guns, he found they were merely empty. When the P-40s broke off three Jap bombers had gone down in flames and the remainder were smoking in varying degrees. Ed Rector was the only A.V.G. casualty. His long chase left him short of gas, forcing him to crash-land his P-40 in a rice paddy east of Kumming with minor injuries.

  Back at the field most of the pilots were too excited to speak coherently.

  “Well, boys,” I told the excited pilots, “it was a good job but not good enough. Next time get them all.”

  I herded them into the operations shack for an hour before I let them eat lunch. We went over the fight in minute detail pointing out their mistakes and advising them on how to get all the bombers next time.

  THE FALL OF SINGAPORE: A CIVILIAN DIARY, 9–15 FEBRUARY 1942

  Dr OE Fisher, medical officer

  After inflicting a humiliating defeat on the British in the jungles of Malaya, the Japanese proceeded to Singapore – Britain’s supposedly impregnable island naval base. Unfortunately, most of Singapore’s 15 inch guns pointed seawards and the Japanese attacked from the landwards side. On 15 February the demoralized and ill-led British and Commonwealth forces on Singapore surrendered to the numerically inferior Imperial Japanese Army of General Yamashita. Well over a hundred thousand troops and civilians passed into captivity, many of them to die. Churchill called the surrender of Singapore “the worst disaster and largest capitulation in Britsh history”.

  Wednesday February 4th

  My birthday! Air raid 9 a.m. – went for docks again. Second air raid 11 a.m. – several sticks dropped fairly close to here. Few casualties admitted here. Caught out with one air raid casualty – house collapsed on him – no marks of external injury but abdomen swollen and tender – diagnosed intraperitoneal bleeding – cut open. Cirrhosis of liver with ascites.

  Pahit party at Sister’s Quarters in evening. After dinner Rupert Shelley got going with bawdy songs à la Residents’ dinner.

  Cable from Father. Short alert during night.

  Thursday February 5th

  Artillery fire throughout night and this morning. Went to town 10 a.m. First alert not till 10.30 a.m. Lasted 1¾ hours. Went for docks again.

  Met Black and Sola in town. Sola told me everyone in Brunei captured save Coghill and Cliffo
rds who got away up Limbang river. Others interned in Belait Rest House. Sultan asked for Graham M.O. Brunei to remain but request refused. Our fighters very active in afternoon. Large fire out at sea. Did a few air raid casualties in evening. Governor visited hospital.

  3 alerts in early hours Friday morning.

  Friday February 6th

  Two alerts in morning. One in afternoon.

  Terrific smoke pall from burning oil dump at Naval base. Artillery fire all day.

  Letter to Kitty. No alert during night.

  Saturday February 7th

  Japs shell town. I hear whistle of shells for first time. Went down town to collect pay. Met Joe Anderson and Kennedy. Hear that 300,000 cases whisky destroyed – deny our troops.

  Sunday February 8th

  Two air alerts in morning. Went to Seaview hotel in morning with Rupert Shelley, Sisters Jones and Bullock. Operating in afternoon from 3.30 p.m. to 8 p.m. Terrific artillery fire all through night. Can see gun flashes all along north coast – both sides firing. Went up on roof to see it – saw coastal search light sweeping Johore Straits.

  Monday February 9th

  Learnt that Japs had landed on north coast of island last night – fierce fighting taking place. Two air alerts in morning.

  Received about 40 casualties – civilian and military – latter chiefly mortar wounds.

  Went to Alexandra Military Hospital in evening to see Bingham.

  Tuesday February 10th

  Japs effect further landings on north coast and occupy Tengah aerodrome. One alert in morning.

  Go to town in afternoon with Rupert Shelley – town deserted. Shell fire and machine gun fire all night.

  Wednesday February 11th

  Go to town in morning. Air of impending dissolution about the place. Numerous fires. Stick of bombs drop a waterspout in front of Gable & Wireless office whilst sending off cable to Kitty. Shells whistling past on way home to K.K. Innumerable air raids throughout day. Tanglin machine gunned. Farrar Park in front of hospital full of gun positions and troops digging in. All hospitals full save K.K. Admit 60 casualties.

  No sleep at night because of heavy guns close at hand.

  Thursday February 12th

  Friday February 13th

  Working in theatre till midnight. Went to bed in flat as usual but awakened by the most terrific artillery barrage imaginable – 30 large guns in Farrar Park opposite. Later machine gun fire and rifle fire. Japs opened with field mortars. Got up 4 a.m. and visited Sisters Quarters to see everyone O.K.

  Saturday February 14th

  Direct hits on Sisters Quarters and on end of front block of hospital by shells.

  An orderly was cleaning an enamel plate when a piece of shrapnel went clean thro’ plate making a circular hole in middle of plate – nobody hurt. Heavy fighting round reservoir.

  Sunday February 15th

  Hospital shelled and dive bombed from 2 p.m. till dusk – ghastly experience. 97 6 inch shells sent over. About 16 direct hits on hospital, 3 on nurses quarters and 2 on our flat. Had a hectic time putting patients under their beds with shells whizzing by. 12 people killed in hospital including Dr. Norris and Dr. Sinha. 60 cars burnt out in compound, fires burning furiously all round including huge fire at Singapore Traction Company’s sheds opposite.

  Singapore capitulated 7 p.m.. Slept the night in X ray dark room.

  The main Japanese invasion of the Philippines – an American outpost in what Nippon sought to make its own corner of the Pacific – began on 22 December 1941. A fortnight later, American troops had been pushed back to the Bataan Peninsula on the west side of Manila Bay. Dogged resistance at Bataan continued until 8 April 1942 when the American garrison, starved, exhausted and diseased, capitulated.

  DEATH MARCH ON BATAAN: THE FIRST DAY, 10 APRIL 1942

  Lieutenant Colonel William Dyess, 21st Pursuit Squadron, USAAF

  Despite the condition of the surrendered US troops at Bataan, their captors – led by General Homma – made them march 65 miles north to Camp O’Donnell. About 40,000 Americans and Filipinos died during the infamous “Death March on Bataan” and the first two months of imprisonment at O’Donnell. It was one of the worst Japanese atrocities of World War II.

  Ordinarily, the trip from Mariveles to Cabcaben field is a beautiful one with the grandeur of high greenclad mountains on the north and a view of the sea on the right. The white of the road contrasts pleasantly with the deep green of the tropical growth on either side.

  But on this day there was no beauty. Coming toward us were seemingly interminable columns of Jap infantry, truck trains, and horse-drawn artillery, all moving into Bataan for a concentrated assault on Corregidor. They stirred up clouds of blinding dust in which all shape and form were lost.

  Every few yards Jap noncoms materialized like gargoyles from the grayish white pall and snatched Americans out of line to be searched and beaten. Before we had gone two miles we had been stripped of practically all our personal possessions.

  The Japs made no move to feed us. Few of us had had anything to eat since the morning of April 9. Many had tasted no food in four days. We had a little tepid water in our canteens, but nothing else.

  The ditches on either side of the road were filled with overturned and wrecked American army trucks, fire-gutted tanks, and artillery our forces had rendered unusable. At intervals we saw mounds of captured food, bearing familiar trademarks. These had fallen almost undamaged into Jap hands.

  As we marched along I rounded up the 110 officers and men of the 21st Pursuit. I didn’t know yet what the score was, but I felt we would be in a better position to help one another and keep up morale if we were together.

  We hadn’t walked far when the rumor factory opened up. In a few minutes it was in mass production. There were all kinds of reports: We were going to Manila and Old Bilibid prison. We were going to San Fernando and entrain for a distant concentration camp. Trucks were waiting just ahead to pick us up. We doubted the last rumor, but hoped it was true.

  The sun was nearing the zenith now. The penetrating heat seemed to search out and dissipate the small stores of strength remaining within us. The road, which until this moment had been fairly level, rose sharply in a zigzag grade. We were nearing Little Baguio.

  I was marching with head down and eyes squinted for the dual purpose of protecting myself as much as possible from the dust and glare and keeping watch on the Jap guards who walked beside and among us. Halfway up the hill we reached a level stretch where a Japanese senior officer and his staff were seated at a camp table upon which were spread maps and dispatches.

  As I came abreast he saw me and shouted something that sounded like, “Yoy!” He extended his hand, palm downward, and opened and closed the fingers rapidly. This meant I was to approach him. I pretended I didn’t see him. He shouted again as I kept on walking. His third “Yoy!” vibrated with anger. The next I knew a soldier snatched me out of line and shoved me toward the table.

  “Name!” shouted the officer. He was staring at the wings and my uniform. “You fly?”

  I told him my name without mentioning my rank and said I had been a pilot.

  “Where you planes?”

  “All shot down.” I made a downward, spinning motion with my hand.

  “No at Cebu? No at Mindanao?”

  “No Cebu. No Mindanao.”

  “Yaah. Lie! We know you got planes. We see. Sometimes one . . . two . . . sometimes three, four, five. Where you airfields?”

  I shook my head again and made the spinning motion with my hand. But I located the airfields for him on his map. I pointed to Cabcaben, Bataan, and Mariveles. He knew about these, of course. He made an impatient gesture.

  “One more. Secret field!”

  “Nope. No secret field.”

  “True?”

  “Yes. True.”

  “Where are tunnel? Where are underwater tunnel from Mariveles to Corregidor? Where are tunnels on Corregidor Rock?” He held the map toward me.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know of any tunnels. No tunnels; no place. I never was on Corregidor. I was only at Nichols field and Bataan.”

  “You flying officer and you never at Corregidor Rock!” His eyes were slits. His staff officers were angry, too. “LIE!” he shrieked and jumped up.

  He was powerfully built, as are most Jap officers. He seized my shoulder and whirled me around with a quick twist that almost dislocated my arm. Then came a violent shove that sent me staggering toward the line. I expected a bullet to follow the push, but I didn’t dare look back. This would have been inviting them to shoot. As I reached the marching line, the officer shouted something else. The guards shoved me and motioned that I should catch up with my group.

  I wanted to be with them, but the double quick up the hill in the scalding heat and dust almost finished me. I had the thought, too, that the guards I passed might get the idea I was trying to escape. My bullet expectancy was so high it made my backside tingle from scalp to heels. I caught up as we were passing through Little Baguio. In a short time we were abreast the blackened ruins of Hospital No. 1, which had been bombed heavily a couple of days before.

  Among the charred debris, sick and wounded American soldiers were walking dazedly about. There was no place for them to go.

  Their only clothes were hospital pajama suits and kimonos. Here and there a man was stumping about on one leg and a crutch. Some had lost one or both arms. All were in need of fresh dressings. And all obviously were suffering from the shock of the bombing.

  They looked wonderingly at the column of prisoners. When the Jap officers saw them, these shattered Americans were rounded up and shoved into the marching line. All of them tried to walk, but only a few were able to keep it up. Those who fell were kicked aside by the Japs.

  The Japs forbade us to help these men. Those who tried it were kicked, slugged, or jabbed with bayonet points by the guards who stalked with us in twos and threes.