J B Caudle�s Marine Magazine Article
The Leatherneck, July, 1944 Vol XXVII, No
8, p.34
Caudl-JB.doc
Magazine article
Sky Spies
Marine photo-recon fliers are charting pathways
for Allied thrusts into heart of Japan�s empire
By Sgt. Bill Miller
Deadly bloom of ack-ack
flowered in the skies over Truk harbor.
Through a rift in
the clouds, Jap gunners could see one of two American Liberators daring
to fly over that most formidable of Nippon�s Central Pacific bastions.
Nip spotters at first
had reported the raiders as bombing planes, but now they knew better.
They were United States Marine photographic reconnaissance planes, sure
harbingers of trouble.
Those
far-ranging sky giants, with cameras instead of bombs in their bellies,
were familiar and highly unwelcome sights to the Japs. Day after
day they came, first over Guadalcanal, then over the Russells, New Georgia,
New Britain, New Ireland, Bougainville, Tarawa, Kwajalein, Eniwetok _and
now over Truk. Always after them came the bombers, the warships and
the invasion fleets.
That flight over
Truk, on 4 February, 1944, followed by smashing attacks which exploded
the �impregnable fortress� myth, spotlighted a little known phase of Marine
aviation. Aerial �photo-recon� is said to be responsible for eighty
per cent of all military intelligence in modern war, but few flights are
made public when their daring and vital nature can be appreciated.
Truk was the target
of another Marine photo-recon foray early in 1943, when the most advanced
Allied airfield was on Guadalcanal. One of the longest and most daring
flights ever made, it came within sixty miles of its goal and did succeed
in getting pictures of Puluwat, 125 miles west of Truk.
In weather as dirty
as only the Solomons variety can be, two Liberators of Colonel Elliott
Bard�s Marine Photographic Squadron 154 took off from Henderson Field,
bound for Truk. One of the planes turned back in the heavy storm,
but the other kept on, up the slot to Bougainville, then north over the
vast stretch of open sea.
Aboard the plane
were Col. Bard, Major Andrew B. Galatian, Jr., pilot, Commander J.L. Greenslade,
Navy observer, and a full crew of enlisted Marines. Forced off course
by storms, they finally reached a point midway between Truk and Puluwat.
To the east, clouds and the sun made Truk invisible, but they could see
Puluwat�s reefs beneath the clouds on the west. So they turned west
and took pictures of Puluwat.
All the way back
to Guadalcanal, they fought their way through storms, arriving with only
thirty gallons of fuel left in the tanks, enough to keep them in the air
eight minutes. After stretching the range of their PB4Y-1 to the
limit, they were unable to circle Henderson Field as required in ordinary
landings and had to radio ahead that they were coming in straight.
For the record, Australians
flew American-built Hudsons on two photo-recon raids over Truk in January,
1942, while they still held Rabaul. Despite heavy ack-ack and attacks
by Jap planes, they filmed twelve cruisers and destroyers and an aircraft
carrier in the harbor and bombers packed wing to wing on one island airstrip.
Three weeks later, Australian-manned Catalinas dropped the first bombs
on Truk.
Col. Bard, now commanding
Air Regulating Squadron 9 at Cherry Point, was skipper of VMD-154 during
its fourteen months of operations in the South and Central Pacific.
Commissioned early in 1942, it was the first Marine photographic squadron
to go into combat, its vanguard arriving overseas 5 October, 1942.
Army planes, under Navy control and using photographers from a Marine observation
squadron, handled all photo-recon in the Solomons from July to October,
1942.
Original function
of the airplane in war was reconnaissance. There were Marine aerial
observers in France during World War I, but they took no pictures.
One of those aerial
observers was Sgt. George C. Morgan, who became an ace air cameraman for
the Corps after the war. He served on mapping details in Haiti, Nicaragua
and Panama and was cited as an aerial photographer in the Nicaraguan campaign
of 1927.
In 1921, Colonel
Christian F. Schilt, now commanding 9thMarAirWing at Cherry Point, mapped
coasts and rivers of Haiti and Santo Domingo. He flew a de Havilland
with a K-1 camera attached to a special frame back of the rear seat.
That same year, Lieutenant
Eugene Rovegno took aerial photos of President Harding�s yacht off Quantico,
developing the film in flight and dropping finished prints aboard the Mayflower
when it docked at Quantico eight minutes later. So far as is known,
that was the first time in history photographs were taken, developed and
printed aboard a plane.
Colonel Hayne D.
Boyden was responsible for most of the pioneer work in Marine air photography.
He was the first Marine officer to attend the Army school of aerial photography
at Chanute Field, Ill., in 1923. He probably has taken more pictures
from the air than any other flier and has survived so many crashes that
old-timers call him �a man who can�t be killed.�
Landing force exercises
of the Atlantic Fleet on the beaches of Culebra Island were filmed by Col.
Boyden in 1924 to 1927, with Corp. Hubert H. Dogan as his photographer.
Since 1922 he has done much aerial mapping, including 500 square miles
of northeastern Nicaragua in 1932.
Among Marine officers
who have done much in the field of aerial photography during this war are
Colonels Raymond E. Hopper, William C. Lemly and Ernest E. Pollock.
When VMD-154 was
formed, early in 1942, it was given three F2A-3s (Brewster Buffaloes),
fitted with F-56 automatic cameras. These planes and two SNJs which
replaced them were used only in training.
In Pacific operations,
�heavies� like the PB4Y-1s do strategic mapping and reconnaissance, while
fighter types are used for most of the daily tactical field coverage.
With the new continuous strip cameras, speedy fighters can zoom over enemy
strongpoints, shooting pictures from altitudes of 300 feet or less and
getting away before enemy defenses are alerted.
Majors Mike Sampas
and Herman A. (Hap) Hansen won DFCs for such low oblique flights in the
Solomons. Major Sampas flew an unarmed fighter plane on photo-recon
missions over the Kokumbona area every other day from 19 October to 1 November,
1942, gaining valuable information despite heavy ack-ack and attacks by
Zeros. Major Hansen made similar fights and was shot down once, crash-landing
in the ocean under Jap gunfire. Despite injuries, he made his way
to shore and returned immediately to duty.
VMD-154 was cited
for discovery of the cleverly camouflaged Jap airfield at Munda, which
the Allies captured after they let the Nips finish building it. Intelligence
reports of activity there were conformed by air photos which showed telltale
signs of the airstrip under coconut trees.
Aerial photography
is largely an enlisted man�s show, although officer pilots get most of
the glory. Photographers, gunners, radiomen and flight mechanics
on the PB4Y-1s, as well as most of the ground personnel, are enlisted men.
Four Marine sergeants,
all aerial photographers with the observation squadron which preceded VMD-154
in the islands, won Air Medals for their part in discovery of what is now
Henderson Field on Guadalcanal while the Japs were building it in 1942.
MTSgts. Marcus N.
Harper, J. Morris and W.L. Peak and TSgt. H.E. Collier took the pictures
on the first two flights over Guadalcanal in July, 1942. Army Flying
Fortresses under Navy supervision were used for the 2000-mile missions
from New Caledonia.
�We had a running air battle
with five Zeros for twenty minutes,� MTSgt. Harper recalls of one flight,
�and our gunners swapped plenty of lead with the enemy fighters.
The tail gunner bagged one Zero and the rest were driven away.�
Harper had two tours
of overseas duty. Most of the second was on the ground, but he got
fifty combat hours over the Gilberts and helped photograph gun emplacements
on Betio before invasion. VMD-154 did the reconnaissance for the
Tarawa thrust, handicapped though it was by lack of fighter planes for
low obliques which might have revealed more of the island�s hidden defenses.
Shooting pre-invasion
pictures of Tarawan was no picnic. Many missions were flown, all
for long over-water distances, and the ack-ack was always heavy.
One of the planes
overshot the target when the tiny isle was covered by clouds. After
searching for several hundred miles, it headed back to its base.
Suddenly three Zeros
pounced upon the Liberator. Just as suddenly, the Marine crewmen
found themselves right over Tarawa, only 500 feet up and a perfect target.
They lost no time in hurrying upstairs before the pokey anti-aircraft batteries
opened fire, then beat off the Zeros.
�Blow by Blow� accounts
of front line action on Bougainville were photographed daily by VMD-154,
and films were dropped to a ground photography unit which was in charge
of Tsgt. Harley S. Hardin during the initial Marine landing at Empress
Augusta Bay. Hardin, who is credited with assisting in discovery
of the Munda airfield, had his closet brush with death on Bougainville.
�During the first
few days, we encountered six enemy strafings. Although we had supremacy
of the air, a Jap plane would sift through occasionally and do considerable
damage along the beach. We were without foxholes the first day, and
several machine gun bullets narrowly missed me.�
Marine aerial photographers
are trained at the Naval School of Aerial Photography at Pensacola, Fla.,
and most of them are qualified gunners and bombardiers as well as skilled
cameramen.
MTSgt. Lloyd H. Wolf
was taking pictures on a flight over Munda when eight Zeros jumped his
plane. He immediately abandoned his camera hatch and swung his twin
fifties into action.
�One of the Japs
made a low pass on the starboard side of the plane. He came within
range and I put my bead on him.
�The Zero seemed
to stop in mid-air as I fired a quick series of rounds. My tracers
tore into his fuselage. Our turret gunner saw him plummet into the
water after busting into flames.�
During the sojourn
of VMD-154 in the Pacific, in some 300 missions, there were remarkably
few attacks by enemy aircraft. The wary Japs did not come too near
the heavily gunned PB4Y-1s except when they had great superiority in numbers.
No planes were lost in actual operations.
In one epic battle,
eight Zeros jumped a Liberator returning from a photo-recon mission over
Munda. Having no belly turret, the pilot, Lieutenant Gordon E. (Gig)
Gray, headed for the water. He flew so low that crewmen say the wing
edges hit wave tops.
Sgt. Earl Anderson
and PFC Jack Tarver, gunners, blasted two Jap planes into the drink, and
two others were driven off smoking. Knowing the PB4Y-1 had no direct
fire in front, two of the Zeros attacked head-on. The Liberator was
aimed directly at one of them, increasing its turning circle so rapidly
that the Jap pilot fell out.
When Lt. Gray got
three slugs in his arm, TSgt. James (Pappy) Caudle, flight mechanic, took
the controls until things cooled off and Lieutenant Earl Miles, copilot,
could take over. Sgt. Harry Schaub, radioman, stopped a bullet with
his eye. Photographers on the flight were MTSgt. George Brown and
MTSgt. Levert E. Jones.
Their plane was beat
up so badly that they had to flash a warning ahead and land straight on
Henderson Field. They nosed over in landing, and traffic to Guadalcanal
had to be diverted to Espiritu Santo until the mess was cleared up.
Attached to 1stMarAirWing,
VMD-154 had its difficulties in the early days of the Pacific offensive.
Maps were scarce and hard to read, since the islands lacked such distinguishing
features as roads.
�Most of the maps
preceding our occupation were charts made around 1850.� Col. Bard
explained. �Consequently, they were very much out of date, as the
rivers had changed courses, beaches had built up or receded, and about
their only use was to show the general contour of the islands.
�However, maps covering
nearly every major island in the South Pacific, made from late photographs,
are now available, plus a great many photographs of particular locations.�
Weather is always
the toughest problem, since it determines whether a pilot will come back
with his mission accomplished. More than one campaign had been held
up when weather prevented aerial reconnaissance.
�One point we were
always careful about.� Col. Bard recalls, �was that planes and crew
must be prepared to take off at a moment�s notice, to take advantage of
breaks in the weather. We habitually kept a standby crew for close
jobs during all daylight hours, and sent out daily missions, morning and
afternoon, on flights of 400 miles or more to get the pictures required.
�On one mission,
the mapping of Vanikora Island, thirty-seven hops were flown before the
weather became ideal for mapping.�
VMD-154 has left
the islands, but another Marine photographic squadron is there, under command
of Lt. Colonel Edwin P. Pennebaker, Jr. That outfit already has plenty
of work chalked up to its credit, including the raid on Truk last February.
There will be few
milk runs for these aerial advance men as the Allied ring tightens on Japan�s
inner empire. When Marines spearhead the final assault, they will
follow a path where photo-recon fliers have charted every step.
Sky Spies
Marine photo-recon fliers are charting pathways
for Allied thrusts into heart of Japan�s empire
By Sgt. Bill Miller
Deadly bloom of ack-ack
flowered in the skies over Truk harbor.
Through a rift in
the clouds, Jap gunners could see one of two American Liberators daring
to fly over that most formidable of Nippon�s Central Pacific bastions.
Nip spotters at first
had reported the raiders as bombing planes, but now they knew better.
They were United States Marine photographic reconnaissance planes, sure
harbingers of trouble.
Those
far-ranging sky giants, with cameras instead of bombs in their bellies,
were familiar and highly unwelcome sights to the Japs. Day after
day they came, first over Guadalcanal, then over the Russells, New Georgia,
New Britain, New Ireland, Bougainville, Tarawa, Kwajalein, Eniwetok _and
now over Truk. Always after them came the bombers, the warships and
the invasion fleets.
During the sojourn
of VMD-154 in the Pacific, in some 300 missions, there were remarkably
few attacks by enemy aircraft. The wary Japs did not come too near
the heavily gunned PB4Y-1s except when they had great superiority in numbers.
No planes were lost in actual operations.
In one epic battle,
eight Zeros jumped a Liberator returning from a photo-recon mission over
Munda. Having no belly turret, the pilot, Lieutenant Gordon E. (Gig)
Gray, headed for the water. He flew so low that crewmen say the wing
edges hit wave tops.
Sgt. Earl Anderson
and PFC Jack Tarver, gunners, blasted two Jap planes into the drink, and
two others were driven off smoking. Knowing the PB4Y-1 had no direct
fire in front, two of the Zeros attacked head-on. The Liberator was
aimed directly at one of them, increasing its turning circle so rapidly
that the Jap pilot fell out.
When Lt. Gray got
three slugs in his arm, TSgt. James (Pappy) Caudle, flight mechanic, took
the controls until things cooled off and Lieutenant Earl Miles, copilot,
could take over. Sgt. Harry Schaub, radioman, stopped a bullet with
his eye. Photographers on the flight wereTSgt. George Brown and MTSgt.
Levert E. Jones.
Their plane was beat
up so badly that they had to flash a warning ahead and land straight on
Henderson Field. They nosed over in landing, and traffic to Guadalcanal
had to be diverted to Espiritu Santo until the mess was cleared up.
Attached to 1stMarAirWing,
VMD-154 had its difficulties in the early days of the Pacific offensive.
Maps were scarce and hard to read, since the islands lacked such distinguishing
features as roads.
�Most of the maps
preceding our occupation were charts made around 1850.� Col. Bard
explained. �Consequently, they were very much out of date, as the
rivers had changed courses, beaches had built up or receded, and about
their only use was to show the general contour of the islands.
�However, maps covering
nearly every major island in the South Pacific, made from late photographs,
are now available, plus a great many photographs of particular locations.�
Weather was always
the toughest problem, since it determined whether a pilot would come back
with his mission accomplished. More than one campaign had been held
up when weather prevented aerial reconnaissance.
Submitted by Shirley Caudle Miller
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