The Last Bomb Page #2

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logging island checkpoints as

they climb past the northern Marianas.

Pagan, Asuncion, Maug, The Pajaros.

After about four hours of flight,

the bombers pass close to Iwo Jima.

The hot rock. A black, gritty

pork chop halfway to Honshu.

Eight square miles

bought and paid for by our marines.

We made some quick changes.

Cutting away that

sulphurous volcanic crust

and rolling Iwo's surface into

one enormous flattop.

Three big airstrips now launch off

P-51s for bomber escort over Japan.

General Moore and his staff of

Seventh Fighter Command run the show

and direct all air-sea rescues in close

collaboration with Bomber Command.

A last-minute briefing check,

just to make sure today's fighter escort

knows all air-sea rescue positions.

General Moore's P-51s are warming up

for the longest fighter flight on record.

Seven hours and one engine.

Extra belly tanks.

Extra nerve and stamina in the cockpit.

About the time our bomber wings

are passing Iwo Jima,

the P-shooters are taking off,

scheduled to join them three and a half

hours later off the shores of Japan.

After a rendezvous at Kita,

the P-51s head for assembly point

led by B-29s designated

as navigator ships.

Farther west, our bomber wings grind

ahead on the last lap to the empire.

Reports to the controller at Guam

give their flight position,

which is kept up to the hour

on the mission board.

Still at low altitude, the B-29s

are approaching the bad weather belt,

where unreported storms

and cold fronts

appear suddenly

across the bomber course.

Pilot to crew,

we're gonna start our climb.

Check oxygen equipment.

Tell Bucky he better get

out to his dog house.

As they begin their

slow climb to altitude,

the crews prepare for

the business ahead

and from now on till they come off target

and head home, it's all business.

The central fire control system

is warmed up.

Superhuman brainpower

at the flick of a switch.

Each gunner flexes his sights

and tries the coordinated fire controls

with a few short bursts

to clear the guns.

After pushing up to altitude, the

bombers arrive close to assembly point.

Air in the pressurized cabin

is comparable to 8,000 feet

but oxygen masks are adjusted

and ready for instant use.

From the southeast our fighter escort

appears with its navigator ships,

which now turn off to wait for

the fighters return at rally point.

The Mustangs climb in formation

to take positions

above the boxes of B-29s.

Lead bombers begin to circle,

dropping their new smoke markers

for assembly.

The project officer observes

this part of the tactical plan in action.

From various zone positions

the groups separate.

And form on their lead ships

in nine-or 11-plane waves...

which head for initial point.

The big parade is on.

Landfall is picked up,

along with the first flak burst

from enemy coastal batteries.

Fujiyama, the familiar white beacon,

marks the turn for initial point.

Flak becomes heavier

and more accurate.

And now the first Jap snoopers appear

diving head-on into the formations.

Some are suicide fighters

trying to ram our bombers.

Other Jap fighters

drop phosphorous bombs

set to explode in front

of the oncoming B-29s.

Our P-51s go out after them

and know they're tangling with experts.

The P-51s' job is to protect the B-29s.

But some Jap fighters filtered through

and meet the blast of bomber guns.

A tail gunner pleads with a Nip fighter

to come in a little closer.

From the turn at initial point the

tight bomber waves move steadily on

and get ready for business.

Flak and fighters fall off.

But those clouds are beginning

to close in and it looks worse ahead.

Then just east of Hachioji,

the Tokyo area breaks clear.

The bombardiers begin

to draw a bead on 574.

Their planes sit tight

for the bombing run.

Here's where we pay off.

Two Jap aircraft plants

and an aerodrome 12,000 feet below

are about to receive

4,000 tons of destruction.

The first waves of B-29s

have already found their objective.

Succeeding bomber groups add

their devastation to the smoking targets.

Tactical plan 574

is now an accomplished fact.

The bombers turn and go downwind

across the burnt acres of Tokyo.

Close-up cameras show the scars of

those spectacular fire strikes last March.

51 square miles of LeMay treatment.

Across the bay and a tailwind speeds

them south down the Chiba peninsular.

This is fighter country.

With the first call on the intercom

our Mustangs peel off

and go to work again.

With the big bombers homeward bound

our P-51s dropped down

for strafing runs,

concentrating on definite objectives

from here to the enemy coast.

Skimming along at maximum speed,

the fighters pair off and go to work

cutting vital Jap lifelines.

Blasting away at communications,

radio installations, power lines.

Swooping down on

enemy transportation, railroads,

marshaling yards,

small suburban factories.

And airfields.

Then onto shipping targets-

freighters, fishermen, trawlers,

harbor and coastal craft.

Destroyer or lugger,

it's the same enemy.

After strafing,

our fighters climb back to rally point

and the waiting B-29 navigator planes.

With the first sight of Iwo,

fuel gauges are down close to empty

but fighters' spirits begin to rise.

They wind up and finish with a kick

coming past Suribachi

at whiplash speed

and zoom into their victory rolls.

Once over for each Jap killed.

After the last fighter groups are in,

all hands sweat in

those first limping B-29s.

That runway is a beautiful sight

as they let down

with engines out, low on gas

or beat up by flak and fighters.

In three months nearly 2,000 crippled

or gas-shy B-29s havened at Iwo.

You can understand why those

four-fan boys bless those marines

and even name their planes after them.

The lucky ones are fueled

and depart for home bases in an hour.

But Iwo still has its hazards.

Weather can turn this station

into a hopeless day-mare.

Fog and quick overcast often blacks out

the airstrip during these crucial periods.

That means orders to bail out.

Or with luck, a B-29 might drop in

for a copybook ditching.

From here you can see how

the cloud cover smothers the runway

and realize what one pilot went through.

Sometimes a battle-scarred bomber

staggers back to Iwo

only to flatten out

at the last heartbreaking second.

By some miracle,

the whole crew got away to safety

before 2,000 gallons of flaming gas

enveloped them.

Firefighters risked their lives

to save the ship.

This too takes courage

beyond the line of duty.

Far to the south, most of the wings

are nearing their bases.

Exhausted crews wait out

the last endless hour

when time seems to stop.

Their position is radioed in

and the controller gets word

of the approaching flight.

At last the familiar Marianas

appear on the horizon.

The bombers fly across Guam

and turn in to the landing pattern.

15 hours ago they left

the other end of that runway.

It's a pleasure to be back, a pleasure

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