Our attack on the Solomons began just before dawn on August 7. My squadron was assigned the tasks of strafing at Guadalcanal, patrolling over the carriers, and protecting the transports and screening vessels. My first flight, launched just before dawn at 0615, had an ominous beginning as Ike, my wingman, crashed over the port bow of the carrier into the water with full gun on when he was caught in the slip stream of the plane ahead. I held no hopes for his life but later learned that he was picked up by a destroyer and that his injuries were not serious. Tab, Innis, and I maintained a three-plane patrol which was uneventful except for one dash after a fictitious Jap shadowing plane. We landed at 8.30 and were off again at 0915, this time to patrol over the transports. Bob had replaced Ike as my wingman. This flight was also without incident though we were afforded an excellent view of the landing operations on Guadalcanal and the siege of Tulagi, Gavutu, and Tanamboco. The four of us landed aboard at 1130 with next flight scheduled for 1315.
I was in the wardroom, hastening to devour a buffet luncheon of sandwiches and coffee, when word came down by messenger for my division to man planes. This unscheduled take-off was explained by the fact that we had information concerning a flight of bombers headed toward us from Rabaul. I told my gang that this looked like the real McCoy and that we must keep as close together as was consistent with the maintenance of a very keen lookout. Also strapped on my .45 cal. pistol for the first time. Pete's division was scheduled to take-off at this time, so I had a flight of eight planes. We were launched at 1215 and I reported on station about 1300, indicating 8 VF in the flight and requesting calls and instructions. We were told to patrol at 12,000 feet over the transports. Soon after reaching assigned altitude, I heard the radio send a division out on vector 310 at 8,000 feet. I made a weather report indicating visibility, amount of clouds, bottom and top of overcast which was fairly thick at 11,000 feet, and also reported that visibility was excellent on top. A few minutes later I went out on 310 at 12,000 feet. Pete remained over the transports. Pete was then ordered out on 300 and shortly thereafter I was given a laconic "left 10." As I acknowledged this order I picked up the enemy horizontal bombers about one-quarter mile away, just forward of my port beam and about 200-300 feet above me. I made contact report as follows: Horizontal Bombers, Three Divisions, Nine Planes Each, Over Savo, Headed for Transports. Next I sent: This Division from Pug: Put Gun Switches and Sight Lamps, on. Let's Go Get 'em Boys.
The bombers, Mitsubishi Type 97s, were too close to their release point to permit a climb and attack from above and ahead. Consequently, I made a low side attack from their port quarter. Opened up first on the leading division with all guns, then fired a short burst at the second or starboard division. The range was too great for best results on this shot but I closed very rapidly and was close aboard the third division when I opened fire on it. At this time I could see the open bomb bays, and it looked as though a total of 8-10 medium bombs (around 200-300 pounds) were lined up fore and aft on either side of the one plane noted in particular. I hit this plane at the forward end of the bomb bay from below and at close range and saw a burst of flame. Retiring below and to starboard from this attack, I noted that my fuselage aft had been hit, probably by a bomber's tail gunner, and that it was smoking badly. My bulletproof windshield had shattered from what was apparently a glancing shot. The smell of incendiary was very noticeable in the cockpit. Thinking I might have to jump and not wanting to waste any ammunition, I returned to the attack making another low side run from the starboard quarter on the third section, second division. I expended all ammunition on this run, scoring one good hit just aft of the starboard engine of one plane and saw this section of his wing go up in smoke. I retired down and to starboard from this attack, still smoking badly in the tail.
At this time the Zeros hit me. First one, then two, and finally four joined in the attack on what was too obviously a "lame duck." These were land-based Zeros and perfectly capable of running circles around me as I soon discovered. They employed a system of teamwork in two's, in which one section would attack from above and on each quarter while the other section was getting into position to follow in a similar attack. From the time I first opened up on the bombers I never saw another of our fighters, though I knew my boys had followed me in and were also having their troubles.
Innis was the only one of the four of us to get back to the ship. I later learned through his story that the Zeros swarmed all over them as I was attacking. He apparently was the first to see them and pulled up into a dogfight, escaping eventually in the clouds and returning with 49 bullet holes in his plane. Pete came along about 4-5 minutes behind us. His first indication of trouble came when he saw two Grummans and a mass of Zeros in a dogfight. He had not heard my contact report or Tab's which followed. These two Grummans were apparently Tab and Bob. Pete hastened to give assistance when he spotted the bombers. Turning to gain position for an attack on the bombers and while making his contact report, Pete spotted some Zeros coming down from above. His wingman and second section had gotten between him and the bombers so he turned into the Zeros to engage them and after an experience similar to Innis's, returned to the ship with nine holes in his plane and a shot through the right leg. His wingman also returned with one hole in the plane. Of the eight of us, three returned to the carrier. Three have not been heard of since, and two were recovered (myself and Joe).
When the Zeros attacked me, I immediately lowered my seat for better armor protection, and recharged all guns, hoping that I might not have had a jam in previous firing and could still do a little shooting. A Zero was attacking at this time from my starboard quarter so I pushed over as though diving to escape him then pulled out immediately, cracking my flaps and whacking off my throttle. He overran me as I'd hoped and made a climbing turn to the left. I turned inside easily and had the aviator's dream; a Zero at close range perfectly lined up in my sights for about one-quarter deflection shot. I pressed my trigger without result and realized sadly that I'd have to fight the rest of this battle without guns. Fortunately, I discovered a system which minimized the damage done by their fire. This consisted of merely determining which of the two Zeros, attacking almost simultaneously on either quarter, was about to open fire first, and turning sharply toward him as he opened up. This gave him a full deflection shot so that he invariably underled me, riddling my fuselage aft but doing little serious damage. This quick turn also placed the second plane directly behind me so that I was well protected by my armor plate. When runs were not exactly simultaneous, I would rely chiefly on my armor, placing the attackers directly aft in succession as they made their runs. I am deeply grateful to the manufacturer of our armor plate, for I could hear a steady stream of .27 caliber bullets zinging into it behind me, none of which damaged me in the slightest. Their attack continued for about five minutes, during which time I maneuvered from slightly to seaward of Savo Island at 11,500 feet down to about 400 feet over the hilltops and approximately 10-15 miles inland from the western tip of Guadalcanal. I felt that by working my way in this direction I was accomplishing two things: four Zeros were being drawn well away from the bombers they were supposed to protect and, if I lived to bail out, it would be over land scheduled to be friendly territory if all went well.
My plane was in bad shape but still performing nicely in low blower, full throttle, and full low pitch. Flaps and radio had been put out of commission. I'd tried to call Bob and Tab without success during the descent. The after part of my fuselage was like a sieve. She was still smoking from Incendiary but not on fire. All the ammunition box covers on my left wing were gone and 20-mm. explosives had torn some gaping holes in its upper surface. I did not notice the condition of the right wing. My instrument panel was badly shot up, goggles on my forehead had been shattered, my rear view mirror was broken, and my plexiglass windshield was riddled. The leak proof tanks had apparently been punctured many times as some fuel had leaked down into the bottom of the cockpit even though the sealing feature was effective and there was no steady leakage. My oil tank had been punctured and oil was pouring down over my right leg and foot.
At this time a Zero making a run from the port quarter put a burst in just under the left wing root and good old 5F-12 finally exploded. I think the explosion occurred from gasoline vapor. The flash was below and forward of my left foot. I was ready for it, having disconnected my radio cord, opened the hood, and unfastened the chest strap and safety belt. Consequently, I dove over the right side just aft of the starboard wing root, head first. My .45 holster caught on the hood track but I got rid of it immediately, though I don't remember how. I did not have sufficient altitude to get out the safest way or to wait the prescribed interval before pulling the rip cord. I fervently asked God to let me live and pulled the ring just as my head was passing below the starboard wing. The plane did a chandelle to the right and went down in a dive, passing about 15-20 feet ahead of me. The ring came out so easily in my hand that I immediately assumed my rip cord had been severed by gunfire. All aviators who bail out want to save the ring. This flashed through my mind as I reluctantly hurled it away and started clawing frantically into the webbing trying to locate the release end of the rip cord. At this point the parachute opened and I was floating comfortably about 100-150 feet above the trees. Though I had seen the Zeros pull off to the left when my plane exploded, I still feared a strafing attack, so immediately grabbed the upwind shroud and spilled what air I could from the chute, allowing it to fill about 25-50 feet above the trees. During the last of this drop, I unfastened the chest and leg straps. The trees broke my fall and I came to rest with very little shock. The harness was off and I was 100 yards away in 9 seconds flat. (A record of some sort, I think.) It seemed logical that the Japs might want to strafe my parachute, which presented a nice target stretched out over the trees, and I definitely didn't want to be there at the time. However, I saw no more of the Zeros so sat down on a hillside to take stock of the situation.
My first grateful thought was to thank God that I was alive. I can guarantee that this was a wholly unexpected outcome of the battle. A hasty survey revealed the following damages: one large hole in my right foot which was the most painful of my injuries, three holes in the calf of my right leg, one in my left knee, one in my left thigh, three in the upper part of my left arm, one glancing shot through my right eyebrow which bled considerably but was not serious, and one small piece of shrapnel in my scalp. I also noted two flash burns from the explosion, one on an exposed portion of the right forearm and one on my left wrist between glove and sleeve. Minor abrasions on my left leg from the fall through the trees were of little consequence.
Not bad at all considering! My right shoe was full of oil, blood, and dirt. I took it off, removed the dirty, oily black sock, stuffed it into the bullet hole to stop the bleeding, tied my shoe on tightly, and headed for the north coast of Guadalcanal. I estimated that my position was about 4 miles from the north coast and 10-15 miles from the western end of the island. I wanted to get out of this area quickly, as I knew I was in Jap territory and thought they might have seen me bail out and would attempt to make me a prisoner. I tried to make the coast by keeping to the hills but realized after about an hour's struggle, with frequent rest periods, that I would have to penetrate the jungle if I wanted to make any headway. At this time I was on the side of a hill, near the top, and had a good view of the territory toward the coast. I sat down and started sliding downhill (this was easier on the foot), while lining up a couple of high trees above the jungle growth which would give me the direction to the water in case I got lost. Suddenly I stopped and crept behind a bush to my right. In a high tree, to the left of the lofty dead tree I was using for a bearing, were two Japs on a wooden platform apparently designed as a lookout post. Fortunately, I saw them first. I continued toward the jungle, keeping as well concealed as possible, and crawled into a discouragingly thick and seemingly impenetrable undergrowth. There were masses of thick, thorny vines, spider webs with big formidable looking spiders, and unseen but imagined wild life of all sorts, mostly poisonous snakes and boa constrictors. The imagination really goes to work in a jungle. The going became easier as I worked my way into what appeared to be the dry bed of a small brook. I had given the Jap lookouts a wide berth and was now headed in the general direction of the beach. Eventually, I broke out into some tall grass bordering a coconut grove. Through the grove I could see the water. Just to my right, on the edge of this grove, was what appeared to be a deserted Jap camp. I scouted it for a few minutes, concealed in the tall grass, and, satisfied that it was unoccupied, proceeded to investigate and see if I could find anything I needed. The Japs had cleared out completely and all I could find was an old flashlight with no batteries but a large reflector I thought I might use for signaling. There was an inviting path through the grove to the water but I couldn't use it as there were some buildings near the water that I thought might be occupied. Progress was slow as I kept concealed as well as possible, skirted the buildings, and at last made the beach. To my right was an open point of land. Our planes were passing overhead, frequently returning to the carriers, so I decided to get out on this point and see if I could attract their attention.
On reaching this destination, I stripped and waded into the salt water. The coral was rough on my feet but I was glad for the opportunity to cleanse all my wounds. Thoroughly washed, I tore my underwear into bandages and made a compress to stop the bleeding in my right foot. I used my collar insignia to pin the bandage on as the strips were too short to tie. The rest of the holes had stopped bleeding. I dressed hastily, polished my reflector with sand and stone as well as possible, and attempted to attract the attention of returning planes by the reflection of sunlight in the pilot's eyes. I had landed at about 1400 and it was now, I guessed, about 1730 as the sun was very low. After a few disappointments my system apparently worked for one SBD, soon followed by several others, started circling warily above me descending slowly. I discarded the reflector and started waving my yellow life jacket which seemed to be the best means of identification. I then signaled SOS in semaphore followed by SEND CRUISER SCOUT repeated slowly several times. However, I don't think either pilot or radioman could read semaphore, though one plane dropped a smoke bomb, flew low over me rocking his wings, and then headed off with the rest for the carrier.
I was concerned about being so exposed and concealed myself between a large log and a pile of sand while awaiting the arrival of a rescue plane or boat. I passed a very cold and windy night on the beach, plus about three hours after dawn the following morning, before I realized that our forces were probably too troubled with other major difficulties to be concerned with dangerous rescue work. I had witnessed some more enemy air attacks just before dark and, not knowing the extent of damage done by these dive bombers or by the horizontal bombers we contacted, I feared we might be suffering serious reverses. I therefore decided to make my way along the beach toward Kukuum, about 25 miles to the eastward, which I hoped would be in the possession of our marines.
The going was tougher as my foot had swelled considerably and was much more painful. I soon came to what appeared to be a deserted missionary's home. It was made of wood and sheet corregated metal with many modern conveniences. There were pigs and chickens in the yard. I investigated carefully, in search mainly of fresh water. This I found in some tanks to the rear. The handle was gone from the valve but I found an old pump handle with elliptical holes in the shank which I used to turn on the water. I drank just enough to quench my thirst as there was danger that the tanks were contaminated. Further search of the grounds disclosed a garage, containing an old truck, and a tractor near by. Both tanks were bone dry and no fuel was in the vicinity, so I had to abandon the hope of motorized transportation. I headed on my way with the knowledge that this place would provide shelter, food, and water if needed.
Soon thereafter I spotted three native boys headed toward me. I raised my right hand in conventional greeting and they answered in kind. As we neared each other they extended their right hands to shake in the white man's fashion. They were obviously friendly. I had to assume so anyhow, as they were a formidable looking trio dressed only in sarongs, with large cane knives at their waists, beaded ornaments on ears and arms, and bracelets made out of bear tusks. They had bushy hair and were black as night. I was unarmed and definitely harmless. I pointed toward Kukuum and said "Japanese." One answered "No Japanese," whereupon they continued on their way and I on mine.
Later I came to a beautiful fresh water stream running clear and rapidly to the bay. It was about 3 feet deep. I waded in, drinking and washing in the cool water, and really hated to proceed on my way. Shortly before reaching this stream I had taken shelter under a coconut tree to avoid a violent rain squall. I spread my life jacket to catch water but it tasted too rubbery to be enjoyed. I took shelter a little later in a Jap lean-to on the beach when another squall of short duration came along but caught no water, so the cool stream was a Godsend.
About noon I decided it was time to eat. Having selected a good coconut along the way, I now broke it open, loosening the fiber by pounding on a tree stump and ripping it off with my hands. I broke open two of the holes at the top of the shell with my Eversharp pencil and really enjoyed the cool and refreshing coconut milk. Though I don't like the meat itself, some of this was also eaten, after breaking the shell, in the interest of nourishment.
I continued slowly on my way and soon saw three wild horses coming toward me. Here seemed another opportunity for transportation of a sort. My foot was troubling me to such an extent that any idea to give it a rest seemed good. The horses, however, were teasers. I tried to attract them with some nice, white, coconut meat, but they'd only get so close then bolt away. This idea, too, was soon abandoned.
I passed several deserted native villages consisting of a number of thatched huts. In one of these I found an old high bowed war canoe of the type dramatized in the movies. This was located in a shed about 100 yards from the beach. I cleared a path through the brush and rocks and after about 11 hours' labor, with the help of some logs I used as rollers, the war canoe was launched. I made a paddle out of the bottom of a palm frond and climbed aboard. She leaked like a sieve, but I figured this was natural until the wood swelled to close the seams, so I started bailing out with my shoe. This system was doomed to failure as the canoe leaked faster than I could bail. After about a 5- minute cruise I beached the rescue ship, just in time, and continued once more on foot.
Fresh water streams were numerous and I came upon some trees with green oranges which tasted very good. I passed more deserted villages, one of which had a little thatched Catholic chapel and schoolhouse. Further on I located another canoe in a hut. This looked more seaworthy than the first, and I was about to embark on a second launching routine when I spotted two more natives. They were coming from behind and also responded favorably to the raised right-hand greeting. We shook hands. One, who spoke very good "pigeon English," said: "Me very sorry," and pointed to my foot. Next he said, "Come with me." Noticing my hesitation he next said, "Father told me be good to white man." These were similar in appearance to the natives previously sighted, though the older. bushy-haired one had a wooden ornament, like a large, wide fork, stuck in the back of his hair with the handle sticking vertically upward.
It was about 1700. I was worn out and figured I had little to lose so went with them. We returned first to the Catholic chapel. I told them I was a Catholic which pleased them greatly. The younger one told me in pigeon English that his Christian name was Joseph, the older one's name was Jonas, and that they had gone to the missionary school for 13 years. Catholic was a magic word. They brought me some more oranges and fussed over me trying to make me comfortable.
While resting here, I saw a Jap attack on our ships by planes flying very low off the water. It was a marvelous spectacle. The ships set up a terrific barrage of A.A. fire and I could see plane after plane go up in flames and plunge into the water. Three Jap planes flew low over our heads while retiring and the natives hid in the building.
Joseph fixed me a pole to use as a crutch and we worked back toward their village. I stopped at a stream for water and Joseph made me a perfect drinking cup from a plant leaf. They then took me to a fresh-water pond. Jonas got some soap from the village and I bathed myself thoroughly, getting plenty of soap in the gunshot wounds to act as a disinfectant. Joseph washed my clothes and brought me a pair of white shorts (waist size about 46) to wear while my clothes dried. They then took me to their village and to a hut in the rear, about 400 yards inland from the water, and indicated what was apparently the number one bunk, a wooden table with some thatch on top. I lay down gratefully while they went to get me food and water.
They soon returned with food "the white man liked," sweet potatoes, Coconut, pumpkin, papaya, small green onions, and some green oranges. The potatoes and pumpkin were boiled. I tried all but the onions, with little relish, except for the oranges, as I was not very hungry.
Joseph and Jonas stood watch, sleeping on thatch laid over the dirt floor of the hut. My rest was a fitful one, as I heard tremendous volumes of gunfire which I later learned was a night cruiser battle. My benefactors had promised to take me by canoe to Kukuum the next morning, as some of their scouts had informed them that this town was now in possession of the white man. However, their minds were changed the next morning since the gunfire of the previous night had scared them. Most of our ships had slipped out of the harbor and they, as well as I, were worried that the Japs might have retaken the island. They didn't want to take me to Kukuum for fear I might fall into the hands of the Japs and I was prepared to stay with them indefinitely if the Japs had been successful in their counterattack.
Sunday was side-show day. Many natives came in to see the white man and scrupulously shook hands under Joseph's careful coaching. All but one seemed quite friendly. He was an old man, about 75-80 years of age, tall, straight, and very active but thin as a rail. He was dressed with much more than the average amount of trimmings and looked to me like the medicine man of the outfit. I don't think he approved of the younger set's solicitous care of the white man, for he stood apart and looked with disgust at me for about ten minutes, then walked out muttering something which sounded very much to me like: "Used to eat white man, now don't know what do." I was glad to see him go and hoped his influence was small in the community.
Joseph had sent one boy into the hills to bring back all the medicine the natives could find. He appeared with three bottles, two small labeled APC capsules and aspirin, and one large bottle with no label and about one-half full of a brownish liquid. Joseph pointed to this and said iodine. I smelled its contents, however, and noted the odor of plain old household Lysol. I then had Joseph boil me some water and I soaked my foot in hot Lysol solution. There was considerable swelling and redness in the area of the wound, so I figured some disinfectant was badly needed. Joseph also indicated the APC bottle and kept saying quinine. Since the mosquitoes and flies had been having a field day with me, and this was known to be malaria country, I decided to take some quinine tablets if Joseph was correct. Consequently, I laid one of these on the tip of my tongue. The taste of quinine was unmistakable so I took two of them.
All day Sunday I tried to persuade them to take me to Kukuum but they were still afraid. In the afternoon, two of our ships came in near the town to unload supplies. This seemed to convince them that it would be safe to make the trip, so three natives volunteered to go with me early the next morning.
Sunday evening we had a feast. Joseph and Jonas went in search of food and returned with a wild chicken and two eggs. They hard-boiled the eggs for me and cleaned and boiled the chicken so that I ate heartily of a delicious meal.
My two protectors stood guard in the hut again Sunday night. The only light was the glow of their smoldering pulp wood, which they always seemed to have with them and which they used both to start their fires and to smoke in their pipes. I didn't sleep very well this night either, as I was bothered by lizards. All day long I would hear a crackling noise in the thatch roof of the hut and occasionally a large lizard would fall through onto the dirt floor. All night long I could hear the crackling and kept wondering when a lizard would drop on me. I kept hoping there would be no gunfire to change the scheduled trip in the morning.
The boys came early all right, appearing in the door of the hut about an hour before sunrise. I was anxious to be on my way, so we launched the canoe about one-half hour later and I took leave of some real friends. Jonas and two other boys came with me, so I left Joseph the only token of appreciation I owned, a penlight, which seemed to fascinate him but was small return for services rendered.
We headed toward Kukuum hugging the shoreline. I tried to persuade them to get farther out, but they were afraid of Jap planes and no amount of reasoning could convince them that no plane would waste ammunition on a native canoe. I felt that Japs might be encamped near the shoreline and wanted to increase the sniping range. However, we proceeded slowly and without incident until about one mile west of Kukuum. We had passed many Jap landing boats, beached and damaged, which I later learned were there as a result of a foiled landing attempt early Sunday morning.
About halfway between us and our destination was a place apparently used for storing fuel and ammunition. Three Jap flags were still flying. The natives asked me whose flags they were and, when I had to admit they were Japanese, they wanted to go back immediately. However, I told them I thought the village was deserted so we approached it warily and saw no signs of life.
We then proceeded toward Kukuum. Soon I saw men running toward the beach with rifles ready. They wore coveralls and helmets similar to those of the Japs, so I didn't know who we were running into. The natives also questioned their identity. Taking faith in the evacuation of the village just passed, and realizing we just had to be successful in this campaign, I raised up and waved to them. They waved back, which convinced the natives we were old friends, so they paddled rapidly to the beach.
What a relief it was to see our own marines! Tasked them to take good care of the natives so they handed them food, candy, and cigarettes. I was laid in a blanket while they went for a truck to take me to Brigade Headquarters' first aid station. I kept the natives with me and turned them over to Colonel Hunt, the intelligence officer. These were the first natives contacted since our landing had been made.
The rest is an anticlimax. That night, while resting in a medical tent in the woods near the airfield, the Japs decided to make their first attack from the hills in which they were hiding. Machine gun fire was terrific. Tracers were skimming close aboard when they decided to evacuate the patients. Four corpsmen, who deserve some recognition for devotion to duty, carried me on a stretcher, and we spent from 2330 that night until dawn the next morning jumping in ditches, behind trees, and running like mad toward the beach to avoid gunfire.
The next two days were spent in a field hospital built by the Japs. We had a few air raids, mostly reconnaissance and strafing, but the Japs had also built a nice shelter for us so that little damage was done.
Wednesday I was taken in ComAirSoPac's PBY-5A to Espiritu Santos and transferred to the Curtis, for further transportation to Pearl. I came aboard the Argonne Monday, 24th, to wait for a ride.