Squadron Life-World War II in the South Pacific

by Don Berkus

On Moritai things settled down to a routine. We flew a mission every third or fourth day; the in between days consisted of cleaning our tent, mainly just straightening out our few belongings and just resting. Going on a mission takes a lot out of you. Once a week we would get our laundry ready and one of the native women would pick it up, wash and iron our clothes. They looked very nice and cost us very little. We took Atibrin tablets every day and the water we drank had Atibrin in it. This was to keep us from getting malaria. We wrote letters home, lots of letters. The highlight was once a week when we had mail call. One of my female friends, Elaine Kroweok, used to send me the words to all the new songs. I really looked forward to getting them. She knew I loved to sing. I could carry a tune but I never had a good voice. I used to love getting cookies even if they were in pieces when I got them. We used to get an old movie once in awhile. I always enjoyed the "Movie Tone News." They always told about what was going on in Europe. I don't ever recall anything said about the South Pacific. I played cards once in awhile, read a little and griped a lot. Everybody griped about something, usually the food.

On the days we went on a mission the routine was usually like this: We would be awakened about 4 a.m., got dressed and had breakfast in the mess hall, usually powdered eggs, toast, and coffee or powdered milk. Then we would get our flight gear and go to the briefing lent. The intelligence officer would tell us the target and what to expect regarding weather and what kind of opposition and so on. Some place along the route there would be a submarine and sometimes a "cat" (A cat is a Catalina, a twin engine flying boat). The submarine and the cat were for emergencies. If we were forced down for any reason, they (one of them) would try to rescue us. It was comforting to know they were there. I am glad I never needed their service. Now, down to the flight line, Will and I and Don Stelter, the engineer, would separately inspect the plane inside and out Tom Skomro, my navigator, would go to the mess hall and pick up our lunch. It was put in a cardboard box. It consisted of a large loaf of unsliced bread, a couple cans of Spam (I liked
Spam), and a large can of pineapple juice. We also each carried a canteen full of water.

Will and I would climb into our seats in the cockpit and check out the instruments and make sure the controls worked the way they were supposed to. I would take off my leather jacket and my shirt for take off. I always got soaked with perspiration on take-offs. We were strapped in. When the tower advised us we would move out onto the taxi strip and then when told, move to the end of the runway. Will and I would hold the brake pedals down and would give the plane full throttle. When the tower said go, we would release the brakes and start moving down the runway. We had to do this on most missions because we were so heavily overloaded with bombs and fuel we couldn't get up enough speed for an ordinary take-off. Even then, sometimes I would have to use full supercharger to get the plane in the air. This was very dangerous because of the nature of the supercharger; but when I used it I had no choice. Even then, when we got the wheels off the ground we immediately raised the landing gear, and even then we had to "mush" the plane a few feet at a time to get to a safe altitude. During the war our B-24s had to carry loads of gasoline and armaments that made our planes much heavier than they were meant to be. Because of that, when we tried to take off we needed long runways to get to take off speed. And many times we couldn't get enough speed to make a normal take off. We would pull the steering wheel back just a tiny bit to get the plane off the ground. As soon as possible we would retract the landing gear. This allowed us a little more speed and we would level off at 10 to 20 feet over water. We would then gain a little more speed and repeat this process until we had a comfortable altitude. Finally, we would get enough speed to fly normally and then we formed into a loose formation to fly to our target. We had a "crash boat" about a mile off the end of the runway for pilots who could not get their planes in the air! My brother-in-law, Leonard Swatt, was the skipper of a crash boat (a P.T. boat without torpedoes) on Kwajalien in the central Pacific.

We would fly in loose formation at about 8,000 feet until we got into enemy territory, then we would tighten up our formation and prepare for our bomb run. The bomb run is when we are the most vulnerable. We have to fly straight and steady at a slow speed so the bombardier can keep the target in his sights. He actually has control of the plane through the Norden bomb sight:

At exactly the right time Bob shouts, "Bombs away!"

I grab the wheel and say, "Let's get the hell out of here."

At this point we are in the middle of a tremendous amount of flack. Let me explain flack. The Japanese surround most of our targets with anti-aircraft guns. These guns come in various sizes but they all fire in anger at us. These guns fire large shells that are set for a certain altitude. When they get to that altitude they explode and hundreds of small, medium and large pieces of metal fly out in every direction. This is what we call flack. It looks like the sky at the 4 th of July in black and white. It is awesome but very dangerous. The sights on these guns are adjusted constantly by a gunner who sits on the gun frame and tries to keep the sights on us as we approach, get on the bomb run and when we leave, until we are out of range. When the enemy puts up this barrage you wonder, "How am I going to get through this?"

After 44 missions I was never hit once. Call it luck or whatever, but I know God was helping me. When we left the area where the danger might be, Tom would get out the lunch and pass out the sandwiches that he made. On our way home we would watch the ocean to look for downed airmen. We never did find any.

After landing at our home base, we would go to debriefing and report any difference in what the intelligence officer told us before our mission or anything else we might have seen that would interest him. Then we would go to the medical tent to see the doctor who would take our temperature, heart rate and he would give us each a shot of whisky. This was supposed to calm us down. After a mission we were very tired; most of the time we would skip dinner and just go to our tent and sleep until breakfast the next morning. Then the routine would start all over.

Captain Don Berkus is a member of MOAA, Military Officers Association of America. We have monthly meetings-the third Saturday of every month at noon at Marie Calender's in Glendale. For more information Phone: Don Berkus 818-501-0486.

This story was written in the Life Story Writing Class, meeting 12:30 pm Thursdays at Encino-Tarzana Branch Library, sponsored by Reseda Community Adult School.