D-Days in the Pacific With the US Coastguard: The Story of Lucky Thirteen by Ken Wiley

Author:Ken Wiley [Wiley, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Casemate
Published: 2010-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Good Morning Charlie

We were winning the land fighting on Saipan, but the Japanese refused to give up easily. They fought bitterly to the very end. The suicide boats remained a constant threat, and their planes from neighboring islands participated in annoying raids, though with little or no hope of returning to their base. Their schedule was almost predictable, and we soon developed names for them.

“They aren’t real effective, but those are real bullets and bombs those bastards are firing,” Bill noted early one morning. “If you get in the way of one, you’d be real dead, to.”

Bill was commenting on a twin engine “Betty” that flew in low and unexpected around the highest mountain at the eastern end of the island. He had probably taken off from Guam or Rota, perhaps even from Tinian. Flying low just above the water, he slipped in undetected. It was barely daylight, and Bill, Tex, and I were anchored just off the reef in relatively shallow water. The Betty made its strafing run on the beach and turned to come back for a second run. As he approached, anti-aircraft fire from the destroyers and LCIs opened up, as did the installations on the island. The Jap strafed again to no effect but this time dropped his bomb, which detonated harmlessly at the water’s edge. He avoided the heavy flak curtain and once again disappeared around the mountainous end of the island. A couple minutes later he appeared again, breaking over the ridge in the middle of the island. The Jap pilot headed straight across it through the increasing anti-aircraft fire. This time he didn’t bother with the beach, but headed instead straight out for the ships anchored offshore. He had his target picked out, and it was one of the bobbing transports.

Worried about the effects of friendly fire, the anti-aircraft batteries let up. The plane’s engines, however, began sputtering. Flying barely 100 feet off the water, the aircraft lost altitude until it plunged into the sea well short of its target. A loud explosion scattered pieces of the aircraft and human debris across a wide area. We kept our eyes glued on the crash site for some time, but there were no survivors.

“Well, that was close,” said Bill. “They must be putting together just about anything that will fly. His own engine got him!”

“Have you noticed that we get one or two of those every morning at the first crack of dawn?” said Tex. “I’ll bet they come off some field right here on Saipan, maybe Tinian.”

I thought about that. I looked over at Tinian, which was in clear view south of Saipan. Word was the Japanese aircraft and landing strips there had been put out of commission, but someone had missed something somewhere. These planes could not have snuck in without detection. They definitely originated from one of the islands visible around Saipan.

“Hey Wiley,” Doll shouted from the approaching tank lighter. “Did that Betty strafe you?”

“Naw,” I replied, “he had too many troubles of his own.

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