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With the Flying Tigers

[The following appeared in the March 1943 issue of Douglas Airview magazine, published by the aircraft manufacturer. The byline was "Ed Overend and Joe Messick." A tip of the virtual hat to Edward Rogers, who brought it to my attention. -- Dan Ford]

On Dec 23 at Rangoon, just 15 days after Pearl Harbor, the Japs sent over 45 bi-motors and 27 Zeros. Twelve of us took off Mingaladon airdrome against them, this being my first actual scrap.

Immediately after takeoff, 18 bombers appeared overhead in the customary Jap vee of vees. We climbed at full throttle toward the formation. My first bow run was probably a bit wobbly; anyway, I missed and turned behind and above the bombers to come in on a tail run. Every turret gunner in the crowd opened up on me, and those white Jap tracers sprayed toward the windshield like snowballs.

At about 250 yards my guns opened up on the last ship, at 50 yards the turret gunner fell into his cockpit, his guns swung loosely, the right engine streamed smoke and flame, and their plane staggered and fell off. Like a beginner, I peeled off to follow him down, which was duck soup for the fighter escort. Three Zeros were sitting on my tail when I hauled out on the treetops and skipped for home in a hurry. My good friend [Hank] Gilbert wasn't so lucky -- nine Zeros jumped him and blew him to pieces.

These deaths were hard for us to take, naturally. No matter how much killing and misery you see around, the loss of a pal or working partner hits between the eyes every time. But we learned lessons this way. In Gilbert's case, we found that our P40Bs would not turn inside a Zero's tight radius: so right away we quit attempting to turn with them. A similar lesson was learned by the death of an AVG pilot was our method of approach to bomber formations. At first it seemed a good idea to dive from above and behind in a fast but shallow approach, but the first man to try it was blown to shreds when the turret gunners threw out a deadly converging fire.

[By Japanese accounts, the Dec. 23 raid consisted of 60 Ki-21 heavy bombers, 27 Ki-30 light bombers, and 30 obsolescent but nimble Ki-27 fighters. Overend was credited with the bomber he engaged. Henry [Hank] Gilbert was the pilot shot down by the Japanese turret gunners.]

Don't let armchair experts tell you the Japanese can't fly, or that they make poor bombardiers, gunners, or navigators. I know you hear a lot of contradictory stories about them, but I do feel qualified to speak on the subject with some knowledge, having watched so many of them close at hand. That observation hasn't been entirely through the gun ringsights, either, for plenty of times sleek Zero noses have slid into sight on my rear vision mirror, with the gun muzzles lighted like a Fourth of July display.

The Japanese fly expertly, show expert coordination, and make especially good though somewhat flashy aerobatic pilots. Their navigation is as good as any I've seen. For instance, Jap bombers come 700 miles at night through nasty weather to locate and bomb our field, not once but often.

As bombardiers their accuracy was diabolic and deadly, usually smack on the target's nose. And I have good cause to withhold criticism of their aerial gunning, as I will explain later. None of which is meant to imply that I admire the Japanese, because I hate their whole dirty race, and always will. I simply want to point out that we are up against a crafty and competent enemy who never pulls his punches, and who plays for keeps.

Certain weaknesses in their methods did become evident, on which we were quick to capitalize. If their tactical plan was disrupted, they were obviously at a disadvantage, seeming to lack the initiative to revise their scheme in a hurry. [The Ki-27 had no radio, so its pilot depended on hand signals from his flight leader.]

A Jap Zero pilot I talked to through an interpreter had bailed out during a mixup with the Flying Tigers. He was 22 years old, had been flying for three years, and had just come from Manchukuo. [China's occupied northeast, with a Japanese puppet government since 1932.] Although pretty surly and uncommunicative, he did say the Japanese pilots hated the American Volunteer Group because its attack methods were so unconventional. [We] came from all directions, he said, never the same way twice. Their gunners couldn't get decent aim at us; it wasn't fair, he thought, to fight that way.

It's all in the way you look at it, no doubt. He and his pals in nine or ten Zeros shot up one of our P40 pursuits one day, and when the pilot bailed out at 12,000 [feet], they took turns running at him and strafing his chute, although by a miracle he landed safely with the parachute, shrouds, and even his body straps cut to tatters. Nice people, the Japs.

Christmas day of 1941, we had a party: 12 of us against 108 of the enemy.

This time I was fortunate enough to knock down a bimotor [bomber] right off the bat. It blew up almost in my face. Evidently the bomb load detonated, and I had to rudder violently to escape flying chunks of shrapnel, crew, and plane.

The second run from below and behind smashed another bomber, but unluckily I ran into the cone of fire of a remote control rotating gun in its tail which killed my engine and froze one aileron. The Curtiss fell off and spun a few times but recovered, and it was fairly easy to belly it in for a forced landing. [Overend was credited with two Ki-21 heavy bombers on Dec 25, 1941.]

This same bomber socked into the ground about four miles away, and being so close I rode over to have a look. Five men were in it, dead of course, the pilot still with his hands on the throttle. One crew member had bailed out and was imprisoned in a nearby village. Fortunately for me, I wasn't scratched.

One day at Loiwing, China, we were warned by the ground service of approaching aircraft. Chuck Older and myself took off in a big rush, but could not locate the ships. We were still hurrying upstairs when the radio advised us that Zeros were down near the ground strafing the field. We rolled over and went down and pretty soon able to see the Zeros flashing back and forth.

Just as I pulled out of the dive, one came across my nose in perfect position for a long deflection burst that tore off his sliding canopy. I dropped the nose a trifle and let out a couple of more quick bursts. Just as the P-40 slid over him the Zero fuselage flew into two parts, and in he went. Chuck then knocked down two in rapid succession.

On the ground our mechanics had dived into slit trenches, and we put on a real Hollywood air show for them until finally the Zeros turned tail, eight planes shy. This same day another of our pilots chased a Zero over 140 miles before bringing it down. [On April 8, 1942, the enemy pilots were flying the comparatively modern Ki-43, a Japanese army equivalent of the navy Zero. Overend was credited with his victory, making him an ace. Older was credited with 1.5, including the long chase in which he split the credit with Robert (Duke) Hedman. Altogether, the Japanese lost four fighters on April 8; the British lost two Hurricanes; and the AVG went unscathed.]

We were not flying the best equipment in the world, and had to use it in every way imaginable. Our Curtiss [P-40B] pursuits were sturdy and did their job, but for the purpose were a little on the [outmoded?] side. We improvised this and that to convert them for specialized jobs, such as bombing.

On one occasion, we took off loaded with a 500 pound bomb each, to blast Jap artillery positions along the Burma Road near the Salween river. One fellow missed pretty badly and started an avalanche down the hillside, which gave us all the idea.

We put about four tons of explosive against different parts of the steep banks, learning later that we had buried not only several heavy gun positions, but also the entire Jap general staff for that section of the road. Not a bad afternoon's work, and certainly a tribute to our mechanics and field men who rigged our jerry-built racks from scraps and junk lying around the hangars.

You people who built Douglas transports would be thrilled to see the loads China National Aviation ships packed into the interior. The Chinese helpers had no particular conception of how much weight the ships would carry, and after their overzealous loading, I've seen those ships stagger into the air with enough cargo to bog down a freight car. They are wonderful airplanes as every pilot who has flown one will testify. The heroic Chinese people struggle along without complaint on a fraction of what we demand as necessity, and it was heartwarming to see them practically cry with joy when the overworked transports completed another round trip.

For several months, incidentally, all of our ammunition and gasoline came in by Douglas DC-3 and C-47 [the military cargo version of the airliner] transports, so we felt pretty good ourselves to see their steady performance under the most adverse conditions. There wasn't any sadder sight than watching a bunch of coolies grouped silently around the wreckage of a Douglas DC-3 the Japs bombed on the ground during a night raid.

Speaking of the Chinese, let me tell you about our airport at one location I'm not allowed to mention by name. The runway was 6000 feet long, as long as the main runway on most municipal fields here in the United States. It had been made over rough, rocky ground without any mechanical equipment at all, entirely and completely by hand, mainly the hands of frail women. The ground was packed in many extended areas to a depth of five feet, and all rocks larger than about walnut size pulverized or removed.

The next time you pass an airport look at the main runway and think of that. It makes some of our so-called "sacrifices" here at home look sort of sick. In the same connection the Chinese built many elaborate fields by hand which even today have never been touched by a landing gear, except perhaps when captured by the Japanese. They were built to accommodate American bombers and fighters on future raids on the islands of Japan.

The United States Marines taught me to fly at Pensacola, and after serving in the AVG and testing at Douglas, I'm going back to a Marine fighter squadron where I belong. But my months at Douglas convinced me more than ever of one thing: each one of you men and women of Douglas is fighting this war just as much as we fought it in the air war over Burma.

We failed to hold Burma because we simply did not have enough planes.

Our Army and Navy can lose other areas just as valuable today or in the future if the same thing happens again. If you let down on the job, you may have our experience in China of watching the Japs come over night after night and day after day in their Mitsubishi, Aichi, and Karigane [warplanes] that were built by workers who are not shirking and who want to win the war just as we do.

[Overend did rejoin the Marines, flying a Vought F4U Corsair fighter with VMF-321 in the Pacific Theater. He ended the war as a major, credited with 5 air-to-air victories with the AVG and 3.5 with the Marines, and decorated with both the British and the American Distinguished Flying Cross. For a time he headed the UNESCO mission on Taiwan. He died in 1971 and was buried at sea.]

[In addition to the transports cited by Overend, Douglas Aircraft built the A-20 Havoc ("Boston" in British service) and A-26 Invader attack planes, the SBD Dauntless dive bomber, and many of Boeing's B-17 Flying Fortress, to a total of 30,000 aircraft. In 1967, it merged with McDonnell Aircraft, and in 1997 McDonnell Douglas in turn merged with Boeing. The Douglas name has vanished in the 21st century, but its indomitable DC-3 still flies, 90 years after it first entered service with American Airlines, with perhaps as many as 150 "goony birds" still in service.]

Question? Comment? Newsletter? Send me an email. Blue skies! — Daniel Ford

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