Rangoon

   At briefing we were told of ships in the Rangoon harbor and our mission was to bomb the waterfront. We were shown intelligence pictures of the ack-ack guns and fighter bases surrounding Rangoon and promised we would be in a good fight. The take off was routine as was the flight across the Bay. All flights were scheduled to put us over the target about high noon. This would make it harder to pick us up, with the sun in their eyes. We came into our bombing run at about nineteen thousand feet. We had been warned that most enemy fighters would come in from between ten and two o'clock high. Ten minutes before bomb away, they started their show. The sky was full of Jap Zeros, just as intent on killing us as we them. Being in the nose I was the first to spot them and kept the rest of the crew informed. As soon as one would get in range, about a thousand feet, I would fire off a few bursts as did all the squadron nose gunners. As they were coming in you would see their wings light up and knew they were firing at us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of our planes burst into flames and start spinning for the ground. I visually followed it down for a couple of seconds and saw it explode with no one leaving the plane. Just as quick as the fighters came, they left. I wondered why. I soon found out. The ack-ack started getting so heavy that I thought if anyone gets out of this it will be a miracle. I heard Miller say, "Bomb doors are open." I knew it wouldn't be long until we had completed the bomb run. Finally "Bomb Away," but that didn't stop the ack-ack. Little did I realize that as soon as we were out of range of the ack-ack, the fighters would make their second attack. Here they come again. It seemed as though there were twice as many as before. We fought for what seemed hours but was actually about fifteen minutes. Several planes were reported being hit and either going down or heading for the coast and ditching in the Bay. Fortunately we were getting out of range and the fighters were making their last attacks. After a while the pilot told us to stow our guns and we could leave our positions, we were out of range. I unloaded my guns and looked at the ammo containers; I was just about out of ammo. We all made a quick inspection of the plane to determine if there was any damage that might keep us from making it home. We were lucky. All of us were so emotionally drained that there was little conversation. Slingloff was white as a ghost and sweating profusely, he seemed very nervous all the way home.

   On landing we took some unusual "crow hops" down the runway and a very fast stop. At debriefing we were told that out of twenty eight planes making the mission, twenty three had returned. Five planes and fifty men were either killed or missing in action. That night there was a great deal of conversation about the day’s mission; all three crews had been involved. The following day the 1st Sergeant informed us that the Major (Sqdn. Commander) wanted to talk to each individually. One by one we were called in and answered question pertaining to the last mission. The intelligence officer was also present. Most of the questions were of a personal nature, such as, "were we scared, was there unusual excitement when fighters were sighted, did we notice anything unusual about any of the other crew members, etc.?" He thanked us and we were dismissed. We thought the meeting was because of a first time rough mission. The next scheduled mission we learned different. At the before mission briefing we were introduced to a 1st LT. John Parmeter, who was to be our new pilot. We wondered what had happened to Slingloff, but no one seemed to know. The next day, through the rumor mill, we found out Slingloff went berserk. We never saw him again, much later we were told he had been sent back to the states. We were averaging two or three missions a week, some not too exciting, and others we got the hell kicked out of us.

   By this time Berney and I had become darn close buddies. If he was scheduled for a mission, and I wasn't, I would go to briefing anyway, and vice versa. He and I would discuss our girlfriends and plans for the future. One day we noticed the arrival of a bunch of new crews. In talking to them we found out they were from the 14th Air Force in China. We knew the Japs were advancing in China and the story was out that they had come here for fear of being overrun. We soon learned that was just an outhouse rumor and why they were with us. At the next scheduled briefing we were told the target would be Rangoon, and instead of just our group of twenty eight planes. The China group would join us. We would be hitting with fifty six plans, some carrying 500 pound bombs, and other incendiaries. We also learned, for the first time, a group of P 38's would be providing escort over the target. The start of the mission went off without a hitch until we started to get near the target. The Japs must have been expecting us; they threw up everything they had. We saw a lot of enemy planes go down, but we also saw several of our own get hit. The ack-ack took its toll. We took a couple of good hits, one through the belly that cut the rudder cables. With the quick thinking of Preston and Willard they spliced the cables back together and we remained in formation. I got a piece of ack-ack shrapnel in the nose turret; it had cut my inter-com lines. We finally got rid of our bombs, out of range of the fighters, and headed home. The pilot tried calling everyone to check on conditions and to tell us it was ok to leave our positions. He was unable to reach me because of the broken wires. Miller banged on the nose turret doors and asked if I was ok, he gave me the pilot’s message. We nursed that baby all the way home and kept our fingers crossed that the cables would hold for a safe landing. At debriefing we learned of our losses and were told to stand by for another flight the next day. The next day and for four consecutive days we drew Rangoon as the target. Every mission was pure hell with many losses. We finally learned the reason for the concentrated effort on Rangoon was an invasion had been planned, but decided to disband the idea, Thank God. ( PS....60 yrs. later!!! Still have that piece of shrapnel mounted along with "ribbons and Medals of "war years".)

   After the last mission we were in the mess hall when I heard my name being called. I looked around and didn't see anyone calling, and then I heard it again. Someone up the line was waving, but I didn't recognize him. He finally came back and I couldn't believe my eyes, it was Guy Lanier from back home in Melbourne. He was with the 14th Air Force and had flown on every mission we made over Rangoon. Since there was nothing scheduled for tomorrow we sat up half the night talking about back home and all our exploits to date. This was the last time I saw Guy over there as the 14th was sent back to China the following day.

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Men of the 7th Bomb Group