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| 1st Lt. Whipps on a mission to Kyushu, in his B-25 Mitchell medium bomber, summer 1945. |
by John D. Whipps
"What the heck is that?" asked the enlisted waist gunner over the radio. The co-pilot looked at the awesome sight outside of his right side window. He took it in, then told the young man and the rest of the crew, "I don't know … but let's get the hell out of here." My father was the pilot, then First Lieutenant William Washington Whipps, Jr., or "Billy" as he was known to all of the guys. Billy spoke up. He excitedly exclaimed…
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For the pilots and crews of the Seventh Air Force, 396th Bomb Group, the day began at 0500 hours. Billy awoke in his olive drab, canvas U.S. Army tent. It was framed up on a wooden plank platform, about eight inches off of the sandy ground of the Japanese island called Okinawa. He yawned, wiped the sleep from his eyes, stumbled up from his cot and went over to the latrine. With a towel in his hand, Billy strolled over to the makeshift shower facility.
This island luxury consisted of a six foot by four foot rectangular, three sided, wood framed stall with canvas walls and a wooden roof. Any onlooker could only see a bather's feet. The water came from six fifty-gallon barrels outfitted with a simple spigot to turn the water on and off. The barrels were suspended overhead on wooden planks spanning the stall. Under the planks was a plywood sheet with holes in it, through which the spigot protruded.
The cool but humid, morning air would warm to a balmy film that seemed to cover everything. It was partly cloudy and still dark. The light, ocean breeze had a musty, moldy smell to it. It was the beginning of a typical South Pacific day. This morning was like scores of other days on this recently "liberated" territory.
Just the week before, the Marines had to burn out a handful of Japanese soldiers that had holed up in one of the many caves on the other side of the island. However, the airfield had been "secured" for some weeks. Okinawa had been taken at a great cost of life and equipment after a long and bloody battle. One hundred thousand civilians, 10,000 to 14,000 Allies and tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers died in the battle. It was a strategically important conquest in the Allied forces' island-hopping strategy. This effort narrowed the valuable distance by which Allied planes could strike targets on the Japanese mainland.
Dressed now in his flight suit, Billy and a couple of his squadron buddies went to the mess tent, to indulge in the morning meal. The guys had lost count of how many times they had that same breakfast: powdered eggs, powdered milk, Spam, warm pineapple juice and coffee.
They thought, "Oh, well. It's this or nothing." After all, it was not that many years ago that any meal was in short supply. One could not forget the Great Depression.
Back at his tent by 0530 hours, Billy knew he had thirty minutes until the 0600 pre-flight briefing. Billy wandered over to the flight line to check on his baby, a Mitchell B-25, modified, medium bomber with eight fifty-caliber machine guns mounted in the nose. With the guns in the wings, the plane had eleven fifty-caliber guns pointing forward. The flight leader was the only one of six planes that had a glass nose. The modified B-25s had been specially adapted with extra machine guns, to be able to provide close air support for Allied ground troops in battle. The B-25 could also drop a host of ordnance such as fragmentation, napalm, incendiary and five-hundred-pound high explosive bombs.
Billy saw his crew chief prepping his plane emblazoned with the name of "Miss Most" and a shapely, almost naked, painted lady who alluringly beckoned and teased the viewer. The Chief had a well-chewed cigar stub stuck out of his mouth. It was probably the same stub he had from last week. So far from home, you just did not throw such treasures away, until you absolutely had to.
Billy asked, "Hey, Chief. How's it looking today?"
The experienced mechanic looked up and told him, "This bucket of bolts is a flying wreck! It's held together with chewing gum and bailing wire."
Billy chuckled and replied, "If anyone can make chewing gum fly, it's you Chief."
Billy then went back to the tent quarters area and pulled a napkin out of his pocket that wrapped a glob of Spam and eggs. He had brought it from the mess tent. A young spider monkey came trotting toward him, shrieking with expectation of a meal. The monkey, named "Corky," was a mischievous little fellow. He got into everything. Billy wished he could spend more time with him, to try and tame him a little bit. Unfortunately, the war kept him too busy to lie around playing with monkeys.
Billy daydreamed of his time in a previous assignment, when he flew in a squadron of P-51 fighter planes. He remembered that there was more "down time" to relax. Each week brought several missions of pure terror, escorting bombers, engaging Japanese fighters in aerial combat, or providing ground support to Marine and Army troops fighting to take a small island from the enemy. This was typically followed by several hours of personal time. It was either terror or boredom. What a choice!
There was one special individual that helped pass the time and made him feel half way normal. He replayed a similar scene in his mind. Each day, he used to take out a napkin of food from his pocket after breakfast. A small, brown and white, yapping terrier would come running toward him. This canine character was "Turbo," the squadron's mascot. Amidst so much death and destruction on a daily basis, the dog was a welcome reminder of innocent life. Billy and the guys really loved that little pup.
As 0600 approached, Billy sauntered over to the Operations tent where the mission briefing was to take place. It was, of course, also an olive drab canvas tent on a wooden platform. Only it was many times the size of the sleeping tents. Today the briefing was held outside the tent. A typhoon had hit the island a day or two before. The Operations tent was heavily damaged and had not yet been repaired. The sun had just risen.
About sixty aviators had assembled to hear the planned activities for the day. They were the pilots and crews for twelve of the squadron's sixty planes. Each B-25 had two pilots and a crew of five. Billy's flight Squadron B, had twelve aircraft. Most of the crews were there. Some of the attendees stood. Some of them sat on the ground. Looking at the gathered faces, you would have thought you were at a high school pep rally. But there was something different in their eyes, sadness or weariness beyond their years.
At twenty-four, Billy was nicknamed "the old man" or "Papa Willy" amongst his squadron colleagues. Being twenty-four, he still had the good looks and boisterous good humor of a young man. But he also had grown up fast amidst the horrors of war. Billy calculated that, from his first flight school, until that morning, eighty-five percent of his fellow pilots and countrymen had died in combat or "operational losses," those whose planes went down due to mechanical failure or weather. These deaths occurred during both combat missions and training exercises.
To Billy and the other Americans gathered there, it did not matter. Their friends were still dead, really dead. The young men at the briefing knew they were the lucky ones. They were still alive. They did not have a cavalier attitude that laughed in the face of death. Under those trying circumstances, one learned to take life, one day at a time.
During official military functions and when in public, the enlisted crew addressed their pilots as "Lieutenant" or "Sir." But when on their own or in the air, they called each other by their first names. They were pals under extremely difficult circumstances. They became very close friends. After all, they were dependent upon each other for their very lives.
The briefing took about thirty minutes. Although it was a relaxed atmosphere, it was still a military presentation. The Squadron Commander, Colonel Baywater, opened the briefing. "The main mission of the day is a raid on Kagashima Airfield, seventy-five miles south of Nagasaki and we'll hit other installations that have been hit before. We don't expect any anti-aircraft artillery or Jap fighters, but it's still possible. Listen to your Ops Officer. We want you back in one piece. Good Luck."
The "Ops" or Operations Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Sevilla, was the second in command. He stepped up to speak. "You will be flying at 10,000 feet and dropping down to 200 feet to strafe any other targets. Captains Minehan and Smith and the Armaments Officer will give you the weather, intelligence, targets and any other details on armaments. We'll take off at 0715."
He told them there would be B-29 bombers in the area. He gave them the B-29s flight path and coordinates. He said they would be flying at 30,000 feet. He gave no indication of the B-29's targets, but provided an ominous caution to those in front of him, "Stay out of that area."
He continued, "The order of flight will be the 396th first." He ran down the list of instructions on the flight order. He added, "You'll have no fighter escort from here. Your main target is Kagashima. Your secondary is Japanese shipping targets along the southern coast of Kyushu. Your bombing altitude will be 8,000 feet. The targets are one hundred and fifty miles from base. You'll get back about 1325. Your radio call sign is 'Grateful.' Now I'll turn you over to the Intelligence Officer, who will let you know what's going on over the target."
Captain Minehan, from Intelligence, then took over the presentation. "There are no reports of any AAA guns. Yesterday's target picture showed no aircraft on the airfield and no replacements of AAA emplacements. AAA is still active at these places." He pointed to a map on a wooden easel. "There is still some AAA at the railroad. Good luck. That's all I have to report. I'll turn you over to the Weather Officer."
Captain Smith stood up and spoke, "En route to your targets, you'll find medium cloud cover. It'll break up over here." He also pointed on the map. "At last report, there was medium cloud cover over the targets. I'll turn you over to the Armaments Officer."
This officer, also a Captain, stepped forward and said, "Today, you're going to have four five-hundred-pound bombs and fuse delay demolition bombs. You are all familiar with these five-hundred-pounders. We'll be dropping from 8,000 feet. Bombardiers, if you have any questions, we'll meet after the briefing. That's all I've got to tell you. If there are no questions, this briefing is concluded. Good Luck!"
Just before being dismissed, one of the pilots from each plane was given their flight orders for that day. Billy got it and read it. Billy would fly with eleven other B-25s.
The pertinent parts of the flight order read as follows:
STATIONS: 0700.
TAKE OFF: 0715; ORDER: 396th, 47th, 46th, 820th.
PRIMARY TARGET: Kagashima
SECONDARY TARGET: Kanoya.
TERTIARY TARGET: Chiran
The secondary target was a large fighter airbase and manufacturing center. Kanoya was a city located just several miles from Nagasaki, a major seaport on Kyushu.
The third target, if both of the other targets were unavailable due to bad weather, was the southernmost Japanese fighter airfield of Chiran.
Their secondary mission was to strafe any "targets of opportunity" that they might encounter such as a Japanese navy ship, aircraft on the ground, trains, or troops being transported south toward the coast. The Japanese were amassing troops on Kyushu for the expected Allied invasion of their homeland.
At this stage of the war, the Japanese had very few fighter planes left. But there were still some. They most likely became Kamikaze suicide pilots. Although their Zero fighters were no match for our P-51 Mustangs ("Cadillacs of the Skies"), they could still do serious damage by crashing into U.S. Navy ships, airbases or other U.S. aircraft on the ground or in flight.
There was also an unspoken third mission which was to be decoys to draw any threatening Japanese aircraft or anti-aircraft fire away from any B-29 bombers in the area.
Billy and his co-pilot went through their pre-flight checklist like they had done a hundred, maybe a thousand times before. On their Okinawan runway, the planes lined up, one behind the other, now ready for takeoff. The engines roared in unison, like thunder. They headed in the direction of the wind to maximize lift. Once airborne, the planes in the flight maneuvered to form a V shape, with the Flight Leader at the point of the wedge.
The flight from Okinawa to Kyushu lasted about ninety minutes. It was entirely over open ocean. There was no land and nowhere to land if you had to in an emergency. If your plane went down with mechanical problems, you and your crew were simply lost.
It was a full-time job to keep the bomber in the air at the right altitude and speed, at the appropriate distance from your wingman, adjusting to the winds, and in formation. The pilots constantly swept their eyes over the instrument panel of gauges, to make sure the plane was in proper operation. Something as simple as having too rich a fuel/air mixture could mean disaster such as running out of gas on the way home. Your plane would go down and it would be too late to do anything about it. Billy, the pilot, had the responsibility for carrying out the mission and protecting the lives of the other five crew members. One mistake and everybody died. It was an awesome responsibility borne by Billy and the other pilots.
It was different when Billy was flying the single seat P-47 and P-51 fighters. As long as he did not fly into anything or anyone, it was just his skin if he screwed up. But after making the transition over to medium bombers, he found himself with several others to take care of, in combat and on the ground.
Billy told the crew, "We're approaching the primary target area." The co-pilot looked through the bomb sight. He told Billy that the target was totally obscured with cloud cover. He advised them to go to the secondary target, Kanoya. Billy concurred and headed that way, hoping for better weather.
Some minutes later, they approached the airfield. They dropped from 10,000 feet to 8,000 feet. This time there was no "ack-ack" or anti-aircraft artillery to contend with. The Japanese war machine was quickly running out of ammunition. The co-pilot looked through his target viewfinder and waited for just the right moment. Three seconds, two seconds, one second more. "Bombs away!" The four five-hundred-pound, high explosive bombs and delayed fuse demolition bombs went spinning and hurling to the ground below. First he saw the flash, then the concussion. Then they all heard the low rumble of the blasts over the noise of the B-25's engines.
Then Billy took the plane down to two hundred feet "off the deck" and raced over the target that they had just bombed moments before. He saw a fighter plane surrounded by some trucks on the ground and quickly pounded it with all of the fifty caliber guns. The pilots worked perfectly in tandem. Billy flew the aircraft and aimed the guns so the bullets would rake over the ground target. The co-pilot squeezed the trigger at just the right time to inflict the maximum damage. Burst after burst, tore into the fighter and the trucks, ripping them to pieces. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
The bullets completely destroyed them, turning the military equipment into an impressive blaze of fire and twisted metal. Another added benefit of firing off so many bullets, in addition to destroying the target, was losing the weight. Getting rid of the heavy bullets lightened the load for the flight back. Less weight meant better gas mileage and a better chance to make it back to the base.
They pulled up and away from the scene below. The other planes followed suit after discharging their deadly cargo on the Emperor's kingdom below. After raiding Kanoya they prepared for the return flight. Billy and his navigator plotted their course over the southern half of the island as they had done many times before.
After rising and veering away from the area, Billy pointed his aircraft in a northwest direction and started up and along the coastal route toward the designated post-bombing rendezvous position. This route took him over Kagashima, Izumi, Hondo, and Nagasaki, before heading west out over the ocean. Nagasaki was located at about the middle of the island on the western coast. The trip from Kanoya on the southern tip of Kyushu to Nagasaki was about one hundred and twenty air miles and took about fifteen minutes to complete. After about ten or twelve minutes, the Flight Leader suddenly came on the radio. "Circle over the water, fifteen miles out." He gave them a specific geocoordinate to go to.
Billy remarked, "That's strange. We've never had to do that before." The planes gathered out over the ocean, circling around and around at 10,000 feet, out from the port city familiar to all of them. As Billy banked the aircraft around to the right on the fourth turn, the seaport started to come into view.
The waist gunner peered out of the left side window, to survey the bomb damage that had occurred from the strikes inflicted on the port facilities in the recent past. He could scarcely believe his eyes. "What the heck is that?"
To get a better view, the plane was leveled off as it paralleled the coast. The co-pilot took in the sight, then said, "I don't know; but let's get the hell out of here!"
From the left front seat, Billy now had a full view of it. He looked out his side window with fascination. Although the information was sketchy, there was a report that a similar thing had occurred a few days before. Then it clicked. Billy looked at his co-pilot, then excitedly exclaimed, "It's a fucking atomic bomb!" About that time, the Flight Leader came back on the radio, "Flight Leader. Return to base. Return to base!"
Billy lingered as he watched something he had never seen before and never would again. The cloud was brown, gray and black. Oddly enough, Billy thought to himself, "It's shaped like a mushroom." He was only about fifteen miles away from it. It was boiling upwards and fast. It went through 10,000, then 20,000, then 30,000 feet and continued to rise through the atmosphere. Billy added, "It's just got to be one of those atomic bombs!"
Luckily, someone had the presence of mind to snap some photographs of the eerie sight. The crew was talking about the strange mushroom. Was it wonderful? They could not decide. About every other word was an expletive, used to try and describe the world's second and last atomic bomb exploded in anger. This one detonated over the harbor city of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945.
The planes headed back toward Okinawa. Although everybody was strangely attracted to the devastating explosion, they wasted no time in vacating the area. On the way back the flight was punctuated by long periods of contemplative silence and colorful chatter. Billy and his co-pilot also talked about it on the way back. Upon reflection, Billy told him, "All those poor people down there." His colleague replied, "Wasn't the other one supposed to look like all the colors of the rainbow?" Billy shrugged his shoulders. Back in 1945, on a distant island during wartime, there was no instant communication, no CNN. Thankfully, everybody made it safely back to Okinawa. No plane was even damaged by anti-aircraft fire.
After the crew left the parked aircraft, Billy and his fellow flyer, as normal, went to be debriefed by the intelligence personnel. This time, Captain Minehan and his inquisitors seemed to look at them a little differently as they walked over to the area outside the damaged Operations tent. After the perfunctory questions about the route, weather, targets, bomb damage assessments, photos, the munitions expended, they got to what they really wanted to talk about. It was as if the questioners were anxious to get past the mission specifics, so they could ask about 'the bomb.'
The questions seemed simple at the time. In retrospect, they indicated just how little we knew about exploding atom bombs. Billy answered the peculiar queries.
"What was your altitude, when you saw it?"
"Ten thousand feet."
"How far away from it were you?"
"About fifteen miles."
"Did you feel any heat?"
"No."
"Was anyone in your crew blinded?"
"Nope."
"Did your aircraft buffet or shake from the force of it?"
"Uh-uh."
"What did it look like?"
He described its characteristics and what they saw.
"What did it do?"
He described its motion. Finally, the debriefing ended.
The two pilots surmised that their Flight Leader was probably the only one of their group of planes that knew of the secret A-bomb mission. Billy later learned that, unknown to everyone else, a B-29 bomber had taken off from Guam and quietly slipped in behind their group of B-25s, using them as a cover to drop the bomb. They did not yet have the technology of airborne radar to see the B-29 and it was flying much higher and behind them. It turned out that the B-25's ancillary decoy purpose was indeed a rather important one.
Needless to say, the 'mushroom bomb' was the topic of conversation around the airbase. But for some pilots, who were not on that particular mission, although interesting, it did not keep their attention for long. They had their own flight to make, their own targets to hit. The war was still on. The Japanese were still fighting for the Emperor, for the Land of the Rising Sun. Billy wondered to himself, 'It must have been a terrific shock for the Japanese, to suffer the American weapon, with the power of the sun, over the Emperor's land at Nagasaki.'
Some days later, Billy, his co-pilot and their crew, along with several other B-25s found themselves once again winging their way toward Kyushu to inflict yet another punishing attack on the now sputtering Japanese war machine. Although they had not yet given up, the massive Allied effort was having the desired effect.
On the way there, one of the bombers developed engine trouble. First one engine quit, then the other. Slowly, the mighty B-25 appeared to glide backwards, then down and down some more. The group flew onward, but not before a bunch of the guys got on the radio and wished their comrades an emotional "Thank You and Farewell." Several salutes were rendered from those watching through the windows of the planes that remained flying. The poignant, last response came from the falling plane, "Tell our wives and families … that we love them." It continued its descent, silently plunging toward the South Pacific Ocean and certain death. It was another 'operational loss.' Many wondered, "Would they never end?"
About three quarters of the way to their target destination, the Flight Leader came on the radio and told all of the planes, "O.K. boys, turn it around and head back to base." Someone asked him, "Why? What's wrong?" The Flight Leader, who had heard something from their airbase on his radio, replied, "The Japanese surrendered. The war's over boys. Let's go home."
A boisterous cheer burst out of Billy and his entire crew. "The war's over! Yahoo!" Then a solemn hush fell over the crew as they all simultaneously remembered their buddies that went down only minutes ago. The collective, unspoken thought was, "Of all the days …"
The flight home was a mixture of personal reflection, outbursts of happiness, memories of lost friends, the horrors of war and thoughts of being reunited with their families and sweethearts. There was only the tentative beginning of a realization that this sadly familiar life of conflict and death in foreign lands might actually be coming to an end.
For Billy, a recent image resurfaced in his mind, that of the Nagasaki atomic bomb boiling up outside his pilot's window. That moment that changed the course of history was forever frozen in the memory of First Lieutenant William Washington Whipps. The events of 9 August 1945 will be remembered by all of us, particularly the participants in the South Pacific War.
We will never forget those that perished in World War II, nor will we forget the survivors. They came home, raised families and built modern America. The horribly effective Nagasaki atomic bomb explosion witnessed by my father, saved untold Allied and Japanese lives. It was the powerful blow that finally ended that terrible war.
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| Whipps' B-25, "Miss Most." This was the plane he flew, when he witnessed the Nagasaki atomic bomb. |
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| 2nd Lt. William "Billy" Whipps, Jr., just after earning his pilot wings, in 1943. |
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| Kanoya Airfield, Whipps' target on 9 August 1945. Note the damage from previous raids. Bomb damage assessment photo, 1945. |
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| These photos show the total destruction of Nagasaki, Japan by the atomic bomb. |
