Bill Phillips added this interesting bit of
info about one of the sons of LCOL McElroy.
Travis Foster
From:
To: thfoster6@aol.com
Sent: 4/29/2022 9:57:35 AM Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Re: Doolittle Raid
Hi Travis,
One of the ‘two fine sons’ LCOL McElroy mentions at the end of his story became a Delta Captain and was my instructor when I did my initial captain training on the Mad Dog in Long Beach in 1990. Small world.
Bill
Aircraft #13 on the Doolittle Raid
This is a fine, first person account of the Doolittle Raid -
hope you enjoy reading it.
There are a number of great stories from WWII
days. This is one. It is a great story, about a boy from Ennis, Texas, who went
on to pilot Aircraft #13 off the deck of the Aircraft Carrier Hornet. In
all the annals of wartime bravery, what those pilots did on April 18th,1942
(five months after Pearl Harbor ) may be one of the greatest feats ever.
Picture yourself at the controls of a B-25 bomber, on the deck of an aircraft
carrier, running up your engines prior to takeoff - a takeoff that had
never before been accomplished before from the decks of a carrier with a
bomber, knowing you were on a one way flight and would not be returning - If
they were not shot down as they bombed Japan they would then be in God's
hands. They would have to find obscure airfields in China (assuming they
were not under Japanese control), or Russia or crash land or they would
have to jump.
This is one of these stories - this one, the boy
from Ennis lived to fly again to pilot C-47's over the Burma Hump and later
would return to the sky's over Japan to bomb them again as a pilot of a
B-29. But, I am getting ahead of the story.
Aircraft #13 on the Doolittle Raid
For you historians, this is an interesting
first-hand account of the Doolittle raid on the mainland of Japan in early WW
ll.
----My name is Edgar McElroy. My friends call me
"Mac." I was born and raised in Ennis, Texas, the youngest of five
children, son of Harry and Jennie McElroy. Folks say that I was the quiet
one. We lived at 609 North Dallas Street and
attended the Presbyterian Church.
My dad had an auto mechanic's shop
downtown close to the main fire station. My family was a hard working
bunch, and I was expected to work at dad's garage after school and on
Saturdays, so I grew up in an atmosphere of machinery, oil
and grease. Occasionally I would hear a lone plane fly over, and would
run out in the street and strain my eyes against the sun to watch
it. Someday, that would be me up there!
I really like cars, and I was always
busy on some project, and it wasn't long before I decided to build
my very own Model-T out of spare parts. I got an engine from over
here, a frame from over there, and wheels from someplace else,
using only the good parts from old cars that were
otherwise shot. It wasn't very pretty, but it was all mine I enjoyed driving on
the dirt roads around town and the feeling of freedom and speed.
That car of mine could really go fast, 40 miles per hour!
In high school I played football and tennis, and was
good enough at football to receive an athletic scholarship to Trinity
University in Waxahachie. I have to admit that sometimes I
daydreamed in class, and often times I thought about flying my very
own airplane and being up there in the clouds. That is when I even
decided to take a correspondence course in aircraft engines.
Whenever I got the chance, I would
take my girl on a date up to Love Field in Dallas. We would watch the
airplanes and listen to those mighty piston engines roar. I just loved it and
if she didn't, well that was just too bad.
After my schooling, I operated a filling station
with my brother, then drove a bus, and later had a job as a machinist in
Longview, but I never lost my love of airplanes and my dream of flying.
With what was going on in Europe and in Asia, I figured that our
country would be drawn into war someday, so I decided to join the Army Air
Corps in November of 1940. This way I could finally follow my dream.
I reported for primary training in
California. The training was rigorous and frustrating at times. We
trained at air-fields all over California. It was tough going, and many of the
guys washed out. When I finally saw that I was going to make it, I wrote to my
girl back in Longview, Texas. Her name is Agnes Gill. I asked her to come out
to California for my graduation, and oh yeah, also to marry me.
I graduated on July 11, 1941. I was now a
real, honest-to-goodness Army Air Corps pilot. Two days later, I married
"Aggie" in Reno, Nevada. We were starting a new life together and
were very happy. I received my orders to report to Pendleton,
Oregon and join the 17th Bomb Group. Neither of us had traveled much
before, so the drive north through the Cascade Range of the Sierra
Nevada’s was interesting and beautiful.
It was an exciting time for us. My unit was the first
to receive the new B-25 medium bomber. When I saw it for the first time I
was in awe. It looked so huge. It was so sleek and powerful. The guys started
calling it the "rocket plane", and I could hardly wait to get
my hands on it. I told Aggie that it was really something! Reminded
me of a big old scorpion, just ready to sting! Man, I could barely wait!
We were transferred to another airfield in
Washington State, where we spent a lot a time flying practice missions and
attacking imaginary targets. Then, there were other assignments in Mississippi
and Georgia, for more maneuvers and more practice.
We were on our way back to California on
December 7th when we got word of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. We
listened with mixed emotions to the announcements on the radio, and the
next day to the declaration of war. What the President said, it just rang
over and over in my head. "With
confidence in our armed forces, with the un-bounding determination of our
people, we will gain the inevitable triumph; So help us God."
By gosh, I felt as though he was talking straight to me! I didn't know
what would happen to us, but we all knew that we would be going somewhere now.
The first weeks of the war, we were back in
Oregon flying patrols at sea looking for possible Japanese submarines. We had
to be up at 0330 hours to warm up the engines of our planes. There was 18
inches of snow on the ground, and it was so cold that our engine oil
congealed overnight. We placed big tarps over the engines that reached down to
the ground. Inside this tent we used plumber’s blow torches to thaw out the
engines. I figured that my dad would be proud of me, if he could see me
inside this tent with all this machinery, oil, and grease. After about an hour
of this, the engines were warm enough to start.
We flew patrols over the coasts of Oregon and
Washington from dawn until dusk. Once I thought I spotted a sub, and started my
bomb run, even had my bomb doors open, but I pulled out of it when I
realized that it was just a big whale. Lucky for me, I would have never
heard the end of that!
Actually it was lucky for us that the Japanese
didn't attack the west coast, because we just didn't have a strong enough force
to beat them off. Our country was in a real fix now, and overall things
looked pretty bleak to most folks. In early February, we were ordered to report
to Columbia, South Carolina. Man, this Air Corps sure moves a fellow around a
lot! Little did I know what was coming next!
After we got settled in Columbia, my squadron
commander called us all together. He told us that an awfully hazardous mission
was being planned, and then he asked for volunteers. There were some of the
guys that did not step forward, but I was one of the ones that did.
My co-pilot was shocked. He said "You can't
volunteer, Mac! You're married, and you and Aggie are expecting a baby soon.
Don't do it!" I told him that "I
got into the Air Corps to do what I can, and Aggie understands how I feel. The
war won't be easy for any of us."
*****
We that volunteered were transferred to Eglin
Field near Valparaiso, Florida, in late February. When we all got together,
there were about 140 of us volunteers, and we were told that we were now
part of the "Special B-25 project."
We set about our training, but none of us knew
what it was all about. We were ordered not to talk about it, not even to
our wives.
In early March, we were all called in for a
briefing, and gathered together in a big building there on the base. Somebody
said that the fellow who was head of this thing is coming to talk to us, and in
walks LCOL Jimmy Doolittle. He was already an aviation legend, and there he
stood right in front of us. I was truly amazed just to meet him.
COL Doolittle explained that this mission would
be extremely dangerous, and that only volunteers could take part. He said
that he could not tell us where we were going, but he could say that some of us
would not be coming back.
There was a silent pause; you could have heard a
pin drop. Then Doolittle said that anyone of us could withdraw now, and that no
one would criticize us for this decision. No one backed out! From the outset,
all volunteers worked from the early morning hours until well
after sunset. All excess weight was stripped from the planes and extra gas
tanks were added. The lower gun turret was removed, the heavy liaison radio was
removed, and then the tail guns were taken out and more gas tanks were put
aboard. We extended the range of that plane from 1000 miles out to 2500 miles.
Then I was assigned my crew. There was
Richard Knobloch as co-pilot, Clayton Campbell as navigator, Robert Bourgeous
as bombardier, Adam Williams as flight engineer and gunner, and me, Mac McElroy
the pilot. Over the coming days, I came to respect them a lot. They were
a swell bunch of guys, just regular All-American boys.
We got a few ideas from the training as to what
type of mission that we had signed on for. A Navy pilot had joined our group to
coach us at short takeoffs and also in shipboard etiquette. We began our short
takeoff practice. Taking off with first a light load, then a normal load,
and finally overloaded up to 31,000 lbs. The shortest possible take-off
was obtained with flaps full down, stabilizer set three-fourths, tail
heavy, full power against the brakes and releasing the brakes simultaneously as
the engine revved up to max power. We pulled back gradually on the stick
as the airplane left the ground with the tail skid about one foot from the
runway. It was a very unnatural and scary way to get airborne! I could
hardly believe it myself, the first time as I took off with a full gas
load and dummy bombs within just 700 feet of runway in a near stall
condition. We were, for all practical purposes, a slow flying gasoline
bomb!
In addition to take-off practice, we refined our
skills in day and night navigation, gunnery, bombing, and low level flying. We
made cross country flights at tree-top level, night flights and navigational
flights over the Gulf of Mexico without the use of a radio. After we started that
short-field takeoff routine, we had some pretty fancy competition among
the crews. I think that one crew got it down to about 300 feet on a hot
day. We were told that only the best crews would actually go on the mission,
and the rest would be held in reserve. One crew did stall on takeoff, slipped
back to the ground, busting up their landing gear. They were eliminated from
the mission. Doolittle emphasized again and again the extreme danger of
this operation, and made it clear that anyone of us who so desired could drop
out with no questions asked. No one did.
On one of our cross country flights, we
landed at Barksdale Field in Shreveport, and I was able to catch a bus
over to Longview to see Aggie. We had a few hours together, and then we had to
say our goodbyes. I told her I hoped to be back in time for the baby's birth,
but I couldn't tell her where I was going. As I walked away, I turned and
walked backwards for a ways, taking one last look at my beautiful pregnant
Aggie.
Within a few days of returning to our base in
Florida we were abruptly told to pack our things. After just three weeks
of practice, we were on our way. This was it. It was time to go. It was the
middle of March 1942, and I was 30 years old. Our orders were to fly to McClelland
Air Base in Sacramento, California on our own, at the lowest possible
level. So here we went on our way west, scraping the tree tops at 160
miles per hour, and skimming along just 50 feet above plowed fields. We crossed
North Texas and then the panhandle, scaring the dickens out of livestock,
buzzing farm houses and a many a barn along the way. Over the Rocky Mountains
and across the Mojave Desert dodging thunderstorms, we enjoyed the flight
immensely and although tempted, I didn't do too much dare-devil stuff. We
didn't know it at the time, but it was good practice for what lay ahead
of us. It proved to be our last fling.
Once we arrived in Sacramento, the
mechanics went over our plane with a fine-toothed comb. Of the twenty-two
planes that made it, only those whose pilots reported no mechanical problems
were allowed to go on. The others were shunted aside.
After having our plane serviced, we flew on to
Alameda Naval Air Station in Oakland. As I came in for final approach, we saw
it! I excitedly called the rest of the crew to take a look. There below us was
a huge aircraft carrier. It was the USS Hornet [CV8], and it
looked so gigantic! Man, I had never even seen a carrier until this moment.
There were already two B-25s parked on the flight deck. Now we knew what the
training was about! My heart was racing, and I thought about how puny my plane
would look on board this mighty ship. As soon as we landed and taxied off the
runway, a jeep pulled in front of me with a big "Follow Me" sign
on the back. We followed it straight up to the wharf, alongside the
towering Hornet. All five of us were looking up and just in awe, scarcely
believing the size of this thing. As we left the plane, there was already
a Navy work crew swarming around attaching cables to the lifting rings on top
of the wings and the fuselage. As we walked towards our quarters, I
looked back and saw them lifting my plane up into the air and swing it over the
ship's deck. It looked so small and lonely.
Later that afternoon, all crews met with COL
Doolittle and he gave last minute assignments. He told me to go to the Presidio
and pick up two hundred extra "C" rations. I saluted, turned, and
left, not having any idea where the Presidio was, and not exactly sure
what a "C" ration was. I commandeered a Navy staff car and
told the driver to take me to the Presidio, and he did. On the way
over, I realized that I had no written signed orders and that this might
get a little sticky. So in I walked into the Army supply depot and made my
request, trying to look poised and confident. The supply officer asked,
"What is your authorization for this request, sir?" I told him that I
could not give him one. "And what is the destination?" he asked. I
answered, "The aircraft carrier, Hornet, docked at Alameda." He said,
"Can you tell me who ordered the rations, sir?" And I replied
with a smile, "No, I cannot." The supply officers huddled
together, talking and glanced back over towards me. Then he walked back over
and assured me that the rations would be delivered that afternoon. Guess they
figured that something big was up. They were right. The next morning we all
boarded the ship.
Trying to remember my naval etiquette, I saluted
the Officer of the Deck and said "Lt.
McElroy, requesting permission to come aboard. "The
officer returned the salute and said, "Permission
granted." Then I turned aft and saluted the flag. I made it,
without messing up.
It was April 2, and in full sunlight, we
left San Francisco Bay. The whole task force of ships, two cruisers, four
destroyers, and a fleet oiler, moved slowly with us under the Golden Gate
Bridge. Thousands of people looked on. Many stopped their cars on the bridge,
and waved to us as we passed underneath. I thought to myself, I hope there
aren't any spies up there waving.
Once at sea, Doolittle called us together.
"Only a few of you know
our destination, and others have guessed about various targets. Gentlemen, your
target is Japan!" A sudden cheer exploded among the men.
"Specifically, Yokohama,
Tokyo, Nagoya, Kobe, Nagasaki, and Osaka. The Navy task force will get us as
close as possible and we'll launch our planes. We will hit our targets and
proceed to airfields in China." After the cheering
stopped, he asked again if any of us desired to back out, no questions asked.
Not one did, not one. The ship's Captain then went over the intercom to the
whole ship's company. The loudspeaker blared, "The destination is Tokyo!" A tremendous
cheer broke out from everyone on board. I could hear metal banging together and
wild screams from down below decks. It was quite a rush! I felt relieved
actually. We finally knew where we were going.
I set up quarters with two Navy pilots, putting
my cot between their two bunks. They couldn't get out of bed without stepping
on me. It was fairly cozy in there, yes it was. Those guys were part of Torpedo
Squadron Eight [Only ENS George Gay survived Torpedo 8 from the Midway
raid] and were just swell fellows. The rest of the guys bedded down in
similar fashion to me, some had to sleep on bedrolls in the Admiral's
chartroom. As big as this ship was, there wasn't any extra room anywhere. Every
square foot had a purpose... A few days later we discovered where they had an
ice cream machine!
There were sixteen B-25s tied down on the flight
deck, and I was flying number 13. All the carrier's fighter planes were
stored away helplessly in the hangar deck. They couldn't move until we were
gone. Our Army mechanics were all on board, as well as our munitions loaders
and several back up crews, in case any of us got sick or backed out. We settled
into a daily routine of checking our planes. The aircraft were grouped so
closely together on deck that it wouldn't take much for them to get damaged.
Knowing that my life depended on this plane, I kept a close eye on her.
Day after day, we met with the intelligence
officer and studied our mission plan. Our targets were assigned, and maps and
objective folders were furnished for study. We went over approach routes and
our escape route towards China ... I never studied this hard back
at Trinity. Every day at dawn and at dusk the ship was called to general
quarters and we practiced finding the quickest way to our planes. If at any
point along the way, we were discovered by the enemy fleet, we were to
launch our bombers immediately so the Hornet could bring up its fighter planes.
We would then be on our own, and try to make it to the nearest land, either
Hawaii or Midway Island.
Dr. Thomas White, a volunteer member of plane
number 15, went over our medical records and gave us inoculations for a whole
bunch of diseases that hopefully I wouldn't catch. He gave us training sessions
in emergency first aid, and lectured us at length about water purification
and such. Tom, a medical doctor, had learned how to be a gunner just so he
could go on this mission. We put some new tail guns in place of the ones
that had been taken out to save weight. Not exactly functional, they were two
broom handles, painted black. The thinking was they might help scare any Jap
fighter planes. Maybe, maybe not.
On Sunday, April 14, we met up with ADM Bull
Halsey's task force just out of Hawaii and joined into one big force. The
carrier Enterprise [CV6] was now with us, another two heavy cruisers,
four more destroyers, and another oiler. We were designated as Task Force
16. It was quite an impressive sight to see, and represented the bulk
of what was left of the U.S. Navy after the devastation of Pearl
Harbor. There were over 10,000 Navy personnel sailing into harm's way, just to
deliver us sixteen Army planes to the Japs, orders of the President.
As we steamed further west, tension was rising
as we drew nearer and nearer to Japan. Someone thought of arming us with
some old ...45 pistols that they had on board. I went through that box of 1911
pistols, they were in such bad condition that I took several of them apart,
using the good parts from several useless guns until I built a serviceable
weapon. Several of the other pilots did the same. Admiring my "new"
pistol, I held it up, and thought about my old Model-T.
COL Doolittle called us together on the flight
deck. We all gathered round, as well as many Navy personnel. He pulled
out some medals and told us how these friendship medals from the Japanese
government had been given to some of our Navy officers several years back.
And now the Secretary of the Navy had requested us to return them. Doolittle
wired them to a bomb while we all posed for pictures. Something to cheer
up the folks back home!
I began to pack my things for the flight,
scheduled for the 19th. I packed some extra clothes and a little brown bag that
Aggie had given me, inside were some toilet items and a few candy bars.
No letters or identity cards were allowed, only our dog-tags. I went down to
the wardroom to have some ice cream and settle up my mess bill. It only
amounted to $5 a day and with my per-diem of $6 per day, I came out a little
ahead.
By now, my Navy pilot roommates were about ready
to get rid of me, but I enjoyed my time with them. They were all right. Later
on, I learned that both of them were killed at the Battle of Midway. They were
good men. Yes, very good men.
COL Doolittle let each crew pick our own target.
We chose the Yokosuka Naval Base about twenty miles from Tokyo. We loaded 1450
rounds of ammo and four 500-pound bombs ... A little payback, direct from Ellis
County, Texas! We checked and re-checked our plane several times.
Everything was now ready. I felt relaxed, yet tensed up at the same time.
Day after tomorrow, we will launch when we are 400 miles out. I lay in my cot
that night, and rehearsed the mission over and over in my head. It was
hard to sleep as I listened to sounds of the ship.
Early the next morning, I was enjoying a leisurely
breakfast, expecting another full day on board. I noticed that the ship was
pitching and rolling quite a bit this morning, more than normal. I was reading
through the April 18th day plan of the Hornet; there was a message in it which
read, "From the Hornet
to the Army – Good luck, good hunting, and God bless you." I
still had a large lump in my throat from reading this, when all of a
sudden, the intercom blared, "General
Quarters, General Quarters, All hands man your battle stations! Army
pilots, man your planes!!" There was instant reaction from
everyone in the room and food trays went crashing to the deck. I ran down to my
room jumping through the hatches along the way, grabbed my bag, and ran as fast
as I could go to the flight deck. I met with my crew at the plane, my
heart was pounding. Someone said, "What's
going on?" The word was that the Enterprise had spotted an
enemy trawler. It had been sunk, but it had transmitted radio
messages. We had been found out!
The weather was crummy, the seas were running
heavy, and the ship was pitching up and down like I had never seen before.
Great waves were crashing against the bow and washing over the front of the
deck. This wasn't going to be easy! Last minute instructions were given. We
were reminded to avoid non-military targets, especially
the Emperor's Palace. Do not fly to Russia, but fly as far west as
possible, land on the water and launch our rubber raft. This was going to be a
one-way trip! We were still much too far out and we all knew that our chances
of making land were somewhere between slim and none. Then at the last minute,
each plane loaded an extra ten 5-gallon gas cans to give us a fighting chance
of reaching China .
We all climbed aboard, started our engines and
warmed them up, just feet away from the plane in front of us and the plane
behind us. Knobby, Campbell, Bourgeois, and me in the front, Williams, the
gunner was in the back, separated from us by a big rubber gas tank. I called
back to Williams on the intercom and told him to look sharp and don't take a
nap! He answered dryly, "Don't
worry about me, Lieutenant. If they jump us, I'll just use my little black
broomsticks to keep the Japs off our tail."
The ship headed into the wind and picked up
speed. There was now a near gale force wind and water spray coming straight
over the deck. I looked down at my instruments as my engines revved up. My mind
was racing. I went over my mental checklist, and said a prayer? God
please, help us! Past the twelve planes in front of us, I strained to see the
flight deck officer as he leaned into the wind and signaled with his arms
for Colonel Doolittle to come to full power. I looked over at Knobby and
we looked each other in the eye. He just nodded to me and we both understood.
With the deck heaving up and down, the deck
officer had to time this just right. Then I saw him wave Doolittle to go, and
we watched breathlessly to see what happened. When his plane pulled up above
the deck, Knobby just let out with, "Yes! Yes!" The second plane, piloted
by Lt. Hoover, appeared to stall with its nose up and began falling toward the
waves. We groaned and called out, "Up! Up! Pull it up!" Finally, he pulled
out of it, staggering back up into the air, much to our relief! One by one, the
planes in front of us took off. The deck pitched wildly, 60 feet or more, it
looked like. One plane seemed to drop down into the drink and disappeared for
a moment, then pulled back up into sight. There was sense of relief with
each one that made it. We gunned our engines and started to roll forward.
Off to the right, I saw the men on deck cheering and waving their covers! We
continued inching forward, careful to keep my left main wheel and my nose wheel
on the white guidelines that had been painted on the deck for us. Get off a
little bit too far left and we go off the edge of the deck. A little too far to
the right and our wing-tip will smack the island of the ship.
With the best seat on the ship, we watched Lt.
Bower take off in plane number 12. I taxied up to the starting line, put on the
brakes and looked down to my left. My main wheel was right on the line.
Applied more power to the engines, and I turned my complete attention to the
deck officer on my left, who was circling his paddles. Now my adrenaline was
really pumping! We went to full power, and the noise and vibration
inside the plane went way up. He circled the paddles furiously while watching
forward for the pitch of the deck. Then he dropped them, and I said,
"Here We Go!"
I released the brakes and we started rolling forward As I looked down the
flight-deck you could see straight down into the angry churning water. As we
slowly gained speed, the deck gradually began to pitch back up. I pulled
up and our plane slowly strained up and away from the ship. There was a big
cheer and whoops from my crew, but I just felt relieved and muttered to myself,
"Boy, that was short!"
We made a wide circle above our fleet to check
our compass headings and get our bearings. I looked down as we passed low over one
of our cruisers and could see the men on deck waving to us. I dropped down to
low level, so low we could see the whitecap waves breaking. It was just after
0900, there were broken clouds at 5,000 feet and visibility of about thirty
miles due to haze or something. Up ahead and barely in sight, I could see
Captain Greening, our flight leader, and Bower on his right wing. Flying at 170
mph, I was able to catch up to them in about 30 minutes. We were to
stay in this formation until reaching landfall, and then break on our separate
ways. Now we settled in for the five hour flight. Tokyo, here we come!
Williams was in the back emptying the extra gas
cans into the gas tank as fast as we had burned off enough fuel. He then
punched holes in the tins and pushed them out the hatch against the wind. Some
of the crew ate sandwiches and other goodies that the Navy had put aboard
for us ... I wasn't hungry. I held onto the controls with a firm grip as we
raced along westward just fifty feet above the cold rolling ocean, as low as I
dared to fly. Being so close to the choppy waves gave you a true sense of
speed. Occasionally our windshield was even sprayed with a little saltwater. It
was an exhilarating feeling, and I felt as though the will and spirit of
our whole country was pushing us along. I didn't feel too scared, just
anxious. There was a lot riding on this thing, and on me.
As we began to near land, we saw an occasional
ship here and there. None of them close enough to be threatening, but
just the same, we were feeling more edgy. Then at 1330 we sighted land, the
Eastern shore of Honshu. With Williams now on his guns in the top turret
and Campbell on the nose gun, we came ashore still flying low as possible. We
were surprised to see people on the ground waving to us as we flew in over the
farmland. It was beautiful countryside.
Campbell, our navigator, said, "Mac, I think we're going to be about
sixty miles too far north. I'm not positive, but pretty sure"
I decided that he was absolutely right and turned left ninety degrees, went
back just offshore and followed the coast line south. When I thought we had
gone far enough, I climbed up to two thousand feet to find out where we
were. We started getting fire from anti-aircraft guns. Then we spotted Tokyo Bay,
turned west and put our nose down diving toward the water. Once over the bay, I
could see our target, Yokosuka Naval Base. Off to the right there was
already smoke visible over Tokyo. Coming in low over the water, I
increased speed to 200 mph and told everyone, "Get ready!"
When we were close enough, I pulled up to 1300
feet and opened the bomb doors. There were furious black bursts of
anti-aircraft fire all around us, but I flew straight on through them, spotting
our target, the torpedo works and the dry-docks. I saw a big ship in the
dry-dock just as we flew over it. Those flak bursts were really getting close
and bouncing us around, when I heard Bourgeois shouting, "Bombs Away!" I
couldn't see it, but Williams had a bird's eye view from the back and he
shouted jubilantly, "We
got an aircraft carrier! The whole dock is burning!" I
started turning to the south and strained my neck to look back and
at that moment saw a large crane blow up and start falling over!... Take that!
There was loud yelling and clapping each other on the back. We were all
just ecstatic, and still alive! But there wasn't much time to celebrate. We had
to get out of here and fast!
When we were some thirty miles out to sea,
we took one last look back at our target, and could still see huge
billows of black smoke. Up until now, we had been flying for Uncle Sam,
but now we were flying for ourselves.
We flew south over open ocean, parallel to the
Japanese coast all afternoon We saw a large submarine apparently at rest,
and then in another fifteen miles, we spotted three large enemy cruisers
headed for Japan. There were no more bombs, so we just let them be and kept on
going. By late afternoon, Campbell calculated that it was time to turn and make
for China. Across the East China Sea, the weather out ahead of us looked bad
and overcast. Up until now we had not had time to think much about our gasoline
supply, but the math did not look good. We just didn't have enough fuel to make
it!
Each man took turns cranking the little hand
radio to see if we could pick up the promised radio beacon. There was no
signal. This is not good. The weather turned bad and it was getting dark, so we
climbed up. I was now flying on instruments, through a dark misty rain. Just
when it really looked hopeless of reaching land, we suddenly picked up a
strong tailwind It was an answer to a prayer. Maybe just maybe, we can
make it!
In total darkness at 2100 hours, we figured that
we must be crossing the coastline, so I began a slow, slow climb to
be sure of not hitting any high ground or anything. I conserved as much fuel as
I could, getting real low on gas now. The guys were still cranking on the
radio, but after five hours of hand cranking with aching hands and backs,
there was utter silence. No radio beacon! Then the red light started
blinking, indicating twenty minutes of fuel left. We started getting ready to
bail out. I turned the controls over to Knobby and crawled to the back of the
plane, past the now collapsed rubber gas tank. I dumped everything out of
my bag and repacked just what I really needed, my .45 pistol, ammunition,
flashlight, compass, medical kit, fishing tackle, chocolate bars, peanut butter
and crackers. I told Williams to come forward with me so we could all be together
for this. There was no other choice. I had to get us as far west as possible,
and then we had to jump.
At 2230 we were up to sixty-five hundred feet.
We were over land but still above the Japanese Army in China. We couldn't see
the stars, so Campbell couldn't get a good fix on our position. We were flying
on fumes now and I didn't want to run out of gas before we were ready to go.
Each man filled his canteen, put on his Mae West life jacket, parachute, and
filled his bag with rations, those "C" rations from the
Presidio. I put her on auto-pilot and we all gathered in the navigator's
compartment around the hatch in the floor. We checked each other's
parachute harness. Everyone was scared, without a doubt. None of us had
ever done this before! I said, "Williams
first, Bourgeois second, Campbell third, Knobloch fourth, and I'll follow you
guys! Go fast, two seconds apart! Then count three seconds off and pull
your ripcord!"
We kicked open the hatch and gathered around the
hole looking down into the blackness. It did not look very inviting! Then
I looked up at Williams and gave the order, "JUMP!!!" Within seconds they were all
gone. I turned and reached back for the auto-pilot, but could not reach
it, so I pulled the throttles back, then turned and jumped. Counting quickly,
thousand one, thousand two, thousand three, I pulled my rip-cord and jerked
back up with a terrific shock. At first I thought that I was hung on the plane,
but after a few agonizing seconds that seemed like hours, realized that I was
free and drifting down. Being in the total dark, I was disoriented at
first but figured my feet must be pointed toward the ground. I looked down
through the black mist to see what was coming up. I was in a thick mist or fog,
and the silence was so eerie after nearly thirteen hours inside that noisy
plane. I could only hear the whoosh, whoosh sound of the wind blowing
through my shroud lines, and then I heard a loud crash and explosion. My plane!
Looking for my flashlight, I groped through my
bag with my right hand, finally pulled it out and shined it down toward the
ground, which I still could not see. Finally I picked up a glimmer of water and
thought I was landing in a lake. We're too far inland for this to be ocean. I
hope! I relaxed my legs a little, thinking I was about to splash into
water and would have to swim out, and then bang. I jolted suddenly and
crashed over onto my side. Lying there in just a few inches of water, I raised
my head and put my hands down into thick mud. It was a rice paddy! There was a
burning pain, as if someone had stuck a knife in my stomach. I must have torn a
muscle or broke something.
I laid there dazed for a few minutes, and after
a while struggled up to my feet. I dug a hole and buried my parachute in the
mud. Then started trying to walk, holding my stomach, but every direction I
moved the water got deeper. Then I saw some lights off in
the distance. I fished around for my flashlight and signaled one time.
Sensing something wrong, I got out my compass and to my horror saw that those
lights were off to my west. That must be a Jap patrol! How dumb could I be!
Knobby had to be back to my east, so I sat still and quiet and did not move.
It was a cold dark lonely night. At 0100 hours I
saw a single light off to the east. I flashed my light in that direction, one
time. It had to be Knobby! I waited a while, and then called out softly, "Knobby?" And a
voice replied "Mac, is
that you?" Thank goodness, what a relief! Separated
by a wide stream, we sat on opposite banks of the water communicating in low
voices. After daybreak Knobby found a small rowboat and came across to
get me. We started walking east toward the rest of the crew and away from
that Japanese patrol. Knobby had cut his hip when he went through the hatch,
but it wasn't too awful bad.
We walked together toward a small village and
several Chinese came out to meet us, they seemed friendly enough. I
said, "Luchu hoo megwa
fugi! Luchu hoo megwa fugi!" meaning, "I am an American! I am
an American!" Later that morning we found the
others. Williams had wrenched his knee when he landed in a tree, but he
was limping along just fine. There were hugs all around. I have never been so
happy to see four guys in all my life!
Well, the five of us eventually made it out of
China with the help of the local Chinese people and the Catholic missions
along the way. They were all very good to us. Later they were made to pay
terribly for it, so we found out afterwards. For a couple of weeks we traveled
across country. Strafed a couple of times by enemy planes, we kept on
moving, by foot, by pony, by car, by train, and by airplane. But we
finally made it to India .
I did not make it home for the baby's birth. I
stayed on there flying a DC-3 "Gooney Bird" in the China-Burma-India
Theatre for the next several months. I flew supplies over the Himalaya
Mountains, or as we called it, over "The Hump" into China. When B-25s
finally arrived in India, I flew combat missions over Burma, and then later in
the war, flew a B-29 out of the Marianna Islands to bomb Japan again and again.
After the war, I remained in the Air Force until
1962, when I retired from the service as a LCOL. We then came back to Texas, my
beautiful Texas. First moving to Abilene and then we settled in Lubbock, where
Aggie taught school at MacKenzie Junior High. I worked at the S & R Auto
Supply, once again in an atmosphere of machinery, oil, and grease.
I lived a good life and raised two wonderful
sons that I am very proud of. I feel blessed in many ways. We have a great
country, better than most folks know. It is worth fighting for. Some people
call me a hero, but I have never thought of myself that way, no. But I did
serve in the company of heroes. What we did, will never leave me. It will always
be there in my fondest memories. I will always think of the fine and brave men
that I was privileged to serve with. Remember us, for we were soldiers once
and young.
With the loss of all aircraft, Doolittle
believed that the raid had been a failure, and that he would be court-martialed
upon returning to the states. Quite the contrary, the raid proved to be a
tremendous boost to American morale, which had plunged following the Pearl
Harbor attack. It also caused serious doubts in the minds of Japanese war
planners. They in turn recalled many seasoned fighter plane units back to
defend the home islands, which resulted in Japan's weakened air
capabilities at the upcoming Battle of Midway and other South Pacific
campaigns.
Edgar "Mac" McElroy, LCOL, U.S.A.F. (Ret.) passed away at his
residence in Lubbock, Texas early on the morning of Friday, April 4, 2003.
Mac was a founder of the Confederate AirForce, to which I am
an early member. WWII
History.
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