Gore and Glory: A Story of American Heroism

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Text originally published in 1944 under the same title.

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Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

GORE AND GLORY

A STORY OF AMERICAN HEROISM

BY

CAPTAIN WILLIAM CRAWFORD, JR.

UNITED STATES ARMY AIR FORCE

AS TOLD TO TED SAUCIER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 5

FOREWORD 6

THE LINGO 8

1. LOOKING BACK 10

2. VOYAGE TO THE UNKNOWN 14

3. BAPTISM OF FIRE 19

4. BLASTING OUR FIRST JAP WARSHIP 26

5. THE MILK RUN TO LITTLE TOKYO 32

6. DEATH IN THE MOON SLICK 52

7. LULU BELLES AND FUZZIES 57

8. BATTLE OF THE BISMARCK SEA 63

9. 4-MILE NOSE DIVE IN THIRTY SECONDS 68

10. SWEATING OUT APRIL 70

11. SKIP-BOMBING AN 8,000-TON JAP TRANSPORT 75

12. FLYING HOLOCAUST 79

13. THE SILVER LINING 84

14. HOME FRONT 90

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 92

DEDICATION

DEDICATED TO

My cockpit buddy and flying partner

LIEUTENANT JIM EASTER

of the 43rd Bombardment Group, 5th Air Force Killed in Action over Lae, New Guinea, on March 3rd, 1943 in the Battle of the Bismarck Sea while bombing an enemy convoy which was completely destroyed

My Gallant Crews but for whose loyal team-work our deeds could not have been done

CO-PILOT LIEUTENANT JOHN GIBBS

BOMBARDIERS LIEUTENANT JACK CAPERTON AND

2ND LIEUTENANT MAX MAYER

NAVIGATOR 2ND LIEUTENANT JACK THOMPSON

RADIO-MEN DICK KELLEY AND MINOR SMITH

ENGINEERS ART RITENOUR AND BILL WALKER

TAIL GUNNERS ROY SCHOOLEY AND JACK HAYDEN

LOWER TURRET-GUNNER BOB WATSON AND

WAIST GUNNER JOE SHAPARUS

Grand Crews That Pulled Together As One Man

BILL GISH AND THE OTHER BOYS

Who set out with me from Stockton on our Great Adventure

All Who Fight the Yellow Peril in the Pacific

GOD BLESS AND KEEP THEM ALL

FOREWORD

A COMBAT record equalled by few—fifty-five battles with the Japanese and many long-range bombing missions over the Southwest Pacific in less than one year—is that of Captain William Crawford, Jr., Flying Fortress Pilot of the United States Army Air Force. He flew against enemy installations, shipping and supply bases in skies continually patrolled by hostile aircraft. First with the famous 19th Bombardment Group, and later with the 43rd Bombardment Group, 5th Air Force, under Lieutenant-General George C. Kenney, he did 375 hours of actual combat flying, and more than 800 flying hours in all—representing 200,000 miles—in our most vital theatre of war.

Volunteering for service before that fateful Pearl Harbor Sunday of December 7, 1941, Crawford was one of the heroes of the epic battle of the Bismarck Sea, the greatest victory over the Jap fleet since the war began. His initiative, dauntless courage and heroic leadership did much to win the day, yet he was only an average American college boy...one with plenty of guts.

When in March, 1943, Crawford, flying out on night patrol over the Bismarck Sea, located and shadowed throughout an eleven-hour vigil the twenty-two ship Japanese convoy and the next day participated in its utter destruction, the world learned what had been apparent only to a few enthusiasts: that land-based air power is superior to sea power. In that great American victory of the air the Japanese lost twelve transports, ten warships, several thousand sailors, ninety-five air-planes and 90,000 tons of shipping, as against an Allied loss of one United States Flying Fortress with its crew of nine, and three fighter planes. This feat was reported by General MacArthur as a victory of such completeness as to assume the proportions of a major disaster to the enemy.

This intrepid 26-year-old fighting pilot is also officially credited with the sinking of three Japanese warships, a cruiser and two destroyers, and an 8,000-ton transport with heavy loss of enemy lives. On three occasions he skilfully returned his battle-scarred and disabled Flying Fortress back to base, saving the lives of his crew under desperate circumstances. He has effected untold destruction of Japanese shipping, installations, airplanes and aerodromes...irreparable damage that helped to smash the vicious yellow onslaught that was relentlessly sweeping the Southwest Pacific in those critical months of 1942 and 1943. Thanks to men like him the Allied forces were able to strike back with a vengeance and carry the war to the Japanese in New Guinea, the Bismarck Archipelago and the Solomon Islands.

For his extraordinary gallantry this youthful hero has been awarded no less than eleven decorations for valor: the Silver Star with Oak Leaf Cluster, equivalent to an additional Silver Star; the Order of the Purple Heart for being wounded twice in action; the Distinguished Flying Cross; the Air Medal with two Oak Leaf Clusters equivalent to two additional Air Medals; and four Presidential Unit Citations signifying four decorations for the part he played at Rabaul in decisive mass-attacks with the 19th Bombardment Group, and with the 43rd Bombardment Group in the famous battle of the Bismarck Sea, and two citations for the Papuan Campaign of New Guinea.

Captain Crawford is also the proud possessor of a letter of congratulation from General Douglas MacArthur, Commander-in-Chief in the Southwest Pacific.

This daring pilot’s narrative is a straight-forward account of his exploits and experiences in the far-flung Pacific, spellbinding in its drama, pathos and breath-taking thrills. May it inspire many others to follow in his footsteps.

Gore and Glory is the story of Young America...out to do or die.

CHARLES WAYNE KERWOOD,

Lieut.-Colonel, Chief Special Liaison Section

United States Army Air Force

THE LINGO

of a Flier

Ack-ack: anti-aircraft fire

Betty: a Jap twin-engined medium bomber

Bitcher: a chronic griper

Blitz: a heavy attack

Bomb up: to load plane with bombs

Bombs away: bombs have been released

Bull Sessions: boasting of one’s exploits back home

Bully beef: canned corned beef

Certain: a hit when the target is seen to be destroyed

Chow line: soldiers lined up waiting to be fed

Coal up: to load up with gasoline

Conked engine: one that has ceased to function

Crock: a wrecked aircraft

Eggs: bombs

Flak: fragments of anti-aircraft shells

Flight deck: area where pilot, co-pilot and engineer are located in plane

Flying on red light: on last 20 minutes of gasoline

Front: a big storm

Gibson Girl: a portable transmitter shaped like an hour glass, or shapely woman

Grease it in: a smooth landing

Hit the sack: to go to bed

Hit the silk: to bail out

Hung up: bombs failed to release upon movement of release handles

It was a breeze: easy, a cinch

Landing strip: a runway

Lead poisoning: getting hit by enemy fire

Log a little time: to take an afternoon snooze

Mae West: a life preserver for the protection of fliers, who have to bail out at sea Mission: an official assignment for reconnaissance or bombing of a designated target Nosedive: a vertical dive

Ops: an Operations Officer

Oscar: a single-engined Jap fighter plane

Photo Joe: a man flying a lone reconnaissance mission

Probable: a supposed hit

Props: propellers

Recco: Reconnaissance

Robot: Automatic pilot—A.F.C.E.

Roger: O.K.

Skip-bombing: low altitude bombing

Suicide raid: imminent danger

Sweating out: worrying and anxiously waiting

This is it: certain death

Top off the tanks: make sure the gasoline tanks are full

Wilco: will comply

Zeke: single-engined Jap fighter plane

Zero: single-engined Jap fighter plane

1. LOOKING BACK

ON A BRIGHT sunny day in mid-July of 1942, a huge grey Army transport, the U.S.S. Mount Vernon—formerly the George Washington, a luxury liner that had carried President Wilson and the American delegation to the Paris peace conference after the last war—weighed anchor at noon, nosed slowly down San Francisco Bay and pulled out into the blue Pacific. I was on my way...somewhere...just where, of course, I did not know.

We were twelve—all volunteers. At Stockton, a few days previously, we had been given our wings and received commissions in the United States Army Air Force. We all lined up, resting our arms on the ship’s rail. We didn’t talk....I pushed my cap back on my head and watched San Francisco slip by.

That funny feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t exactly a sinking one, yet my heart was pretty heavy though I tingled with anticipation and excitement. I wasn’t scared...but I was going to be, and plenty! I knew it would be many a day before I saw God’s country again or my folks, if ever I came back. But we were going after those Japs...there was a job that had to be done and I wanted to help do it. I wanted to go, but I wanted to know where, and wondered whether I would come back. And that was anyone’s guess.

I imagine the other fellows’ thoughts were about the same as mine. More than one of them heaved a sigh as the big ship—she was a 23,000 tonner—pushed down the bay past the tip of the land, making for the open sea and what might be in store for us somewhere on its vast expanse. We were moving out of the world’s safest and largest land-locked harbor, with its picturesque little islands and bordering cities. I drank it all in. As we breasted the waters of the Golden Gate, we left astern beautiful Oakland and Berkeley, the Embarcadero with its bustling docks where other ships were berthed, awaiting adventure such as we were setting out on. Ferry-boats shuttled to and fro...we passed Yerba Buena or Goat Island, where other boys were training to man Uncle Sam’s Navy...Fort McDowell loomed to starboard, where other fellows were going through their army paces in the shadow of forbidding Alcatraz...to port the Marina, the Yacht Club with its tiny glistening boats riding at anchor, and the huge Army post, the Presidio...and after we passed under the famous span of the Golden Gate bridge, Fort Barry, grim guardian of the harbor at the tip of Marin County to the north.

Here was peace and a blue sky unsullied by the treachery and destruction that were ripping things apart the world over. As the ship slid into the open sea, I feasted my eyes on the hills—Twin Peaks, Nob and Telegraph Hills—the trees waving little green hands at us as if to say happy landings, the white strips of sandy beach, Cliff House, Seal Rocks and little harbor tugs scurrying about like the