The
Mystery of Hiroshima and the Fourth B-29
Posted
on 12 August 2010
Categorized | Featured Story, Veterans Corner
The history surrounding the conclusion of World War II centers
on the atomic bomb, a weapon that brought the war to a screeching halt.
In the 65 years succeeding the end of the war, all records of that fateful day
— August 6, 1945 — have stated that three, repeat, three B-29€™s set out to
deliver the first atomic bomb to the islands of Japan.
Bearing a single nuclear bomb code-named Little Boy, a B-29
bomber took off from the island of Tinian in the Pacific. Christened the Enola Gay in
honor of Commander Colonel Paul Tibbets’ mother, the Enola Gay was
accompanied by two more B-29s. The Great Artiste conveyed instrumentation and
was commanded by Major Charles W. Sweeney, and The Necessary Evil, which carried photography
equipment, was commanded by Captain George Marquardt. Leaving Tinian
separately, the three planes rendezvoused over Iwo Jima; from there, they began
their irrevocable six-hour flight to Japan.
As a safety precaution, the bomb was armed en route to Japan and
the safety devices removed thirty minutes before reaching primary target,
Hiroshima. Kokura and Nagasaki were the secondary targets. When
the Enola Gay dropped
the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, those aboard the B-29s described the event
as a giant fireball and a mushroom cloud that completely destroyed the city.
Now, 65 years after Hiroshima was leveled, comes a strange tale
that surfaced in the Raleigh
News & Observer. It concerns a North Carolina World War
II veteran who photographed the A-Bomb as it exploded over that Japanese city.
Like all stories, this one has a beginning and an end, so let’s
start in the beginning.
In June of 1941, John McGlohon, who was then 18 years old,
joined U.S. military. Assigned a desk job, he was attached to the 3rd
Photographic Reconnaissance Squadron at Maxwell Field in Montgomery, Alabama,
where he was trained in photography. John enhanced skills during an
assignment in Brazil, in 1942, when he was ordered to replace one of the aerial
photographers who had taken ill.
As the war progressed, John’s squadron was sent to Smoky Hills
Air Force Base at Salina, Kansas, to learn to fly the new B-29 bomber.
His tour of duty found him photographing missions in China, the Korean peninsula,
and Japan.
In the spring of 1945, John’s squadron was assigned to the 20th
Air Force Command at Harmon Airbase on Guam. Later, they would be
assigned to the 8th Air Force Command. Flying missions over Japan, the
squadron recorded possible targets and damage resulting from bombing runs.
When the order was given to bomb Hiroshima, the 20th Air Force
Command issued an order forbidding all aircraft from flying within 50 miles of
Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. Somehow, this order never filtered down to John’s
group. Therefore, a B-29 piloted by Jack Economos left Guam in the early
morning hours on the day in question to reconnoiter at Hiroshima and points
north.
As the plane approached Hiroshima, one of the gun crew announced
over the intercom that he saw another B-29 headed in the opposite
direction. At that point, John said that a brilliant flash of light
appeared under the plane like a giant flash bulb going off; this was followed
by a large cloud rising into the air. John immediately switched on his cameras
to record the devastation. Unaware of the order not to fly within 50
miles of Hiroshima, John assumed that the B-29 he saw leaving the area had
dropped its load not on a heavily populated city, but on an ammunition dump.
Returning to Guam late in the day, John delivered his
photographs to be developed. While in the developing room, he saw shots
taken by the photographic crew that had accompanied the Enola Gay.
“What’s that?” he asked. The reply was, “It’s an atomic bomb.”
“Well,” John retorted, “if it is, we took pictures of it this morning!”
No one believed him until they saw his photographic evidence. For
decades, that was the last time that John ever saw those photos.
With the second attack on Nagasaki, Japan surrendered, thus
bringing the World War II to an end after four long, bloody years. John
returned home to Asheboro, North Carolina. He shared his story with his
wife, family, and friends and then went on with his life to become a city
councilman and the town’s fire chief.
During a reunion of his war buddies in 1995, John’s old
photographic lab chief, Elmer Dixon, brought a file marked Secret that
contained the photographs of Hiroshima. While the docks on the south side
of the city were visible in the photos, the mushroom cloud obscured
everything else.
“That€™s just the way I saw it!” John McGlohon excitedly told
his wife. Sure enough, the photos were stamped with the date that went
down in history: August 6, 1945.
Over the years, John’s story found it’s way into an Internet
forum discussion. Some claimed that it was fabricated as a ploy to
achieve greatness. At a subsequent reunion, in 1998, John McGlohon met up
with Ken Samuelson. Ken believed John’s story and set out to verify it.
His hunt for corroborating evidence led him to Air Force
museums, conversations with curators and veterans, and examinations of flight
logs of the 3rd Photographic Reconnaissance Squadron. The logs carried the path
of John’s flight that day as well as a flight mission report. Ken Samuelson
then contacted 91-year-old Clarence Becker, who had served as Operations
Officer for the 3rd Photographic Reconnaissance Squadron. Becker
confirmed, “I sent them [the squadron] out that day.”
Samuelson also tracked down the photos that Elmer Dixon had had
in his possession, which he had subsequently donated to the Historic Aviation
Museum in Tyler, Texas. When informed of the McGlohon photographs, the
museum’s curator, Mike Burke, stated, “It’s the only photo looking down on the
cloud, and the story makes it more interesting and unique.”
The evidence uncovered by Samuelson supports John McGlohon’s
story. He and his crew did indeed comprise the fourth B-29 contingent
that flew over Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. Why did it take so long for
this story to surface? Will historians of World War II correct the number of
B-29s over Hiroshima that day? Or will this be written off as just
another war story?
If this story exists, surely there must be other tales
stockpiled in the minds of veterans who witnessed or participated in events
that occurred while serving their country. If these stories remain
untold, they will be carried to the grave to be buried forever.
Let’s rectify this, please. The Veterans Corner of Write
On New Jersey extends an invitation to
veterans to share your stories here. If not here, please pass your
stories on to your families and friends, before they are lost for all time.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Shared by Capt David Skyerven
dwskjerven@aol.com
Capt. Bob Amos, pilot of the
B-52, Green-2. (Photo courtesy of the author)
JIMMY STEWART’S VIETNAM BOMBING
MISSION
JIMMY
STEWART FLEW IN VIETNAM? WHAT MOVIE WAS THAT !!
©
J David Truby 2018
Brig.
Gen. James Stewart (middle) and the crew of the Green-2 B-52 on February 20,
1966. The aircraft flew a classified Arc Light bombing mission over Vietnam
with Stewart aboard as an official observer. Stewart was qual- ified as a B-52
pilot. (Photo courtesy of Bob Amos)
Guam, Feb 1966. A B-52 back from a highly
classified Arc Lite bombing run over
Vietnam was headed in for what was supposed to be
a routine landing. The crew had done
so dozens of times without incident. So, this time should
be no different, right? However, when Capt. Bob Amos heard his co-pilot,
Capt. Lee Myers, exclaim nervously, “The flaps are splitting!” Amos’s
heart dropped. There’s nothing worse than being responsible for the
wreck of your bomber back on home base, the damage to your crew, and,
oh, yeah….. for the death of a internationally famous decorated American
war hero and a Hollywood legend….their very highly classified
passenger.
By J.
David Truby, PhD as it appeared in the FLIGHT JOURNAL magazine.
Jimmy
Stewart was their secret passenger on that flight! Yup, that Jimmy
Stewart.
Immediately,
Amos ordered the the flaps pulled out and up, declaring a
major emergency.
Why
was 58 year old Jimmy Stewart even in Vietnam and on that
flight ?
Jimmy
Stewart on set and reading—what else?—an aviation magazine. (Photo courtesy of
Jack Cook)
James
Maitland Stewart didn’t always aspire to be a successful actor.
Growing up in Indiana, PA, a small rural town with its own small rural
grass trip airport, young Jimmy Stewart took a keen interest in
aviation. But, it wasn’t until he graduated from Princeton University and
became an MGM contract player that the actor began to pursue his love of
aeronautics. In 1935, Stewart obtained his private
pilot license, upgrading it to a commercial license in 1938. A movie
star by then, he owned a Stinson 105, which he used to fly home, CA to PA, to
visit his parentsquite often.
Stewart
discussing his flight with other USAF officers. (Photo courtesy of the author)
The
6’3”, 138-pound actor was drafted, then rejected due to his inability to
meet the WWII weight requirements. However, due to his strong
sense of duty and his wish to carry on his family’s military tradition,
Stewart almost made the weight, but, the Army cut him their
break and enlisted him as a private in the U.S. Army in March
1941, weeks after winning the Academy Award for Best Actor in “The Philadelphia
Story” and nine months prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor. He went
to flight school immediately.
Due to
his education and flight experience, Stewart was commissioned as a second
lieutenant and became a U S Army Air Corps flight
instructor. Rising through the ranks, his celebrity status and
the power of MGM relegated him stateside to “safe”
assignments. But, using his own rep and some “Up The chain
HQ” contacts, Captain Stewart became operations officer of the
703rd Bombardment Squadron, 445th Bombardment Group, flying B-24s over Europe
from England.
Within three weeks, he was promoted
to commanding officer and flew his first combat mission in
December 1943. By the end of a successful WWII career, Stewart earned the
rank of major, as well as many awards, including multiple Distinguished Flying
Crosses and the Croixde Guerre avec Palme presented to him by
France.
His
WWII career was not all the glossy glamour offered by the media and
Hollywood. The most honest account of Jimmy Stewart’s WWII heroic
and scary PTSD experience, known then as Battle Fatigue, is the
crux of Robert Matzen’s truly superb book, MISSION: JIMMY
STEWART AND THE FIGHT FOR EUROPE.
Post-WWII
saw Stewart retiring from active duty, but he remained in U.S
Air Corps as a reserve officer where he was promoted to brigadier general and
commanded Dobbins Air Reserve Base in Marietta, Ga. However,
retirement did not tame the adventurous spirit of the aging actor
who quietly requested to visit Vietnam for an
“Active Duty Reserve Tour.”
Stewart’s
P-51c courtesy Was assembled out of a number of air frames . Photo Stan Piet
It had
been 22 years since he earned his first Distinguished Flying Cross in 1944 for
leading B-24 missions over Germany. His purpose for flying to
Vietnam was to boost Air Force morale. But,
this brave and confident combat veteran could not sit idly
by and boost by words alone. Through his career as a reserve officer,
Stewart had qualified as a lead Strategic Air Command (SAC) bomber pilot in the
B-36, the B-47, and the B-52.
As he was qualified to fly the B-52
and wanted to fly on an active bombing mission to observe how
the younger pilots and their crews were handling themselves in
the Vietnam war which was very different than the one in
which Stewart earned his deserved reputation…and so he did..
Arriving
at the Andersen Air Force Base in Guam in February 1966, Stewart
wasscheduled for an Arc Light bombing run. Operation
Arc Light was the deployment of B-52s to provide close air
support mass bombings of enemy base camps, supply lines and troop
concentrations. Stewart’s crew’s objective was to strike active Viet Cong
units in South Vietnam. However, his being on
this specific mission was kept a secret from press and crew
alike. It was kept classified due to fear that if leaked, the
intelligence would allow for very concentrated, specific enemy
interception. The Soviets and the North
Vietnamese openly offered $$$ rewards for the death or capture of
American celebrities during the war. The crew’s prior knowledge could’ve
rattled the nerves of the soldiers already concerned about anti-aircraft
fire, including reportedly newer
model soviet AA rockets, plus MiG fighters.
For
sure, pre-flight news of Jimmy Stewart aboard would have attracted that deadly
enemy attention.
On
February 20, 1966, Capt. Bob Amos, of the 763th Bombardment
Squadron, 454thBombardment Wing, 3rd Air Division, was prepping for his mission
the following day. Checking his flight schedule, he was surprised to
see “Brigadier General Stewart” as a part of his crew. Questioning his
squadron commander, Amos was surprised by his response.
“You
know, Bob, it’s Brig. Gen. Jimmy Stewart, the actor!”
Amos
was excited to tell the men on his crew. Capt. Lee Meyers, Capt. Irby
Terrell, Capt. Kenny Rahn and Tech. Sergeant Demp Johnson, along with
Amos, were a seasoned lead crew with over 20 successful combat missions
under their wings. This young crew was anxious to show the elder
statesman Stewart what the new guard was made of.
After
the mission briefing, Capt Amos felt confident the sortie would go
according to plan. On February 21st, Tech. Sgt.
Johnson brought fresh eggs, bacon, bread and cheese for the long flight
that was expected to last up to 13 hours. The six-man crew, including
Stewart, rode in Green-2, the second aircraft in the 30-airplane bomber
stream. It was a textbook flight. The checklists were completed.
The engines roared to life. The mid-air refueling was spot on.
Despite the crew’s anxiety of having Stewart’s life in their hands,
the mission was as flawless as it could get.
Sitting
in the instructor pilot seat, Stewart was highly impressed by the
goings on around him. When they approached the coast of South
Vietnam, Stewart moved to the edge of his seat to get a better view of the bomb
impacts of the aircraft ahead of them. At 33,500 feet,
Green-2’s “Time to Go” indicator started the countdown. At
zero, 51 M-117, 750-pound bombs began their descent, all landing
successfully within the desired Circular Error of Probability.
With
the mission completed successfully and the B-52s safely
out of Vietnamese airspace, the electric frying pan got plugged in and
a welcomed breakfast was prepared. Enjoying his hearty
provisions of fresh bacon, scrambled eggs and grilled cheese
sandwiches, Stewart congratulated the famished crew on how
they celebrated their successful bomb run.
“Wellll,”
he drawled, “this sure is a helluva lot different from our mission returns
over Germany all those years ago.”
The
safe return was nearing its end, when approaching
Guam airspace, when the co-pilot uttered those fateful words,
“The flaps are splitting!” That meant the B-52 was headed for a total
disaster. Knowing that a “flaps-up” landing
might still be possible, though, Amos, nevertheless,feared
the dramatically different approach of
a nose-up crash landing.
An
intense, emergency procedure rolled out . Asked by the 3rd Air Division commander, Maj. Gen. William J.
Crumm, if the flaps were indeed split, Amos radioed, “There was a mild rolling
moment to the left…could have been from the B-52 in front of us….By the time,
the tail gunner got a view of the flaps, both of them were back in the up position.”
Moving Stewart into position on the lower deck for the
possibility of a bailout, Amos decided the flap extension should be executed
again.
He
told Gen Stewart, “ Sir, if I lose control of the
aircraft, I will call out on the intercom ‘ BAIL OUT’ three times
and activate the bailout light. The navigator will be the first to go,
creating a large hole by his downward ejection seat. Do you understand,
Gen. Stewart?”
“Yes,
Capt. Amos, I understand,” Stewart, a veteran of
many serious WWII combat flight
emergencies, calmly replied.
Proceeding
to the planned bail out area, the crew began to calculate the flaps-up landing
data…figuring THIS IS IT!. With everyone in position for the possible
bail out, Amos ordered, “Lower the flaps!”
The
gauge indicted the flaps splitting, but the flaps were extending normally with
no evidence of rolling. Amos radioed to the command post, “It was a bad
flap gauge…we think.”
Knowing
that Jimmy Stewart was aboard Green-2, the airfield was a flurry of
activity. Emergency equipment and VIP staff in case of a flaps-up
landing. However, there was to be no flaps-up landing that day.
Touching down after 12 hours and 50 minutes in the air, the plane was
greeted by the huge crowd at Andersen Field. Stewart suggested a
commemorative picture of the Green-2 crew before being
whisked to the “Beer Barrel,” an on-post celebratory facility just as
its name implied. Meanwhile the crew attended the debriefing before also
making its way to the celebration.
Before
leaving the base the next day, Brig Gen Stewart requested a special
audience with Capt. Amos. He thanked him and his crew for their cool and
professional demeanor during their mission and in-flight
emergency. It was his last combat flight, and it certainly was a mission
he would never forget.
He
later said, “I remembered Gen George Patton’s speech where he said ‘No man wins
a war by dying for his country. He wins it by making the enemy die
for his country.’ But, in real war, things are never that black
and white.”
Which
may have been why Vietnam was not over for Jimmy Stewart, as tragedy
struck his family three years later. In June of 1969, his stepson,
24 year old USMC lst Lt Ronald McLean, was killed on an ambushed recon
mission near the DMZ. It was a huge blow for the entire family
and their friends.
Brig.
Gen. James Stewart had retired from the U.S. Air Force in
1968. He never spoke of his classified mission in Vietnam. Capt Amos
never did, either. He went on to fly 34 combat missions over Vietnam in
the B-52F, and later 126 missions in F-105Ds. He retired as a Colonel in 1984.
Col Amos said only of that mission, “It was a great experience for
us all and a huge honor for us to have Brig Gen. Stewart fly with us. He
is truly the same modest gentleman in person as he portrayed in his many
films.”
Mostly, the mission was kept a secret due to its
almost deadly consequences, but also because Stewart was always a modest
man. He took pride in his military achievements without flaunting
them. He was a keen observer and a quiet doer. And, he never wanted
to create a hassle due tohis
celebrity status, especially for the crew that never
saw an obstacle it couldn’t overcome, except that one time when it
almost crashed with one of America’s greatest real and true icons
aboard.
©
J David Truby 2018
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