Hellcat Tales: A U.S. Navy Fighter Pilot in World War II
by Robert "Gabby" Gadbois
A Merriam Press Original Publication
Military Monograph MM1
From enlistment in 1942, through cadet aviation training, joining VBF-12/Air Group 12 as a SB2C Helldiver pilot, later switching to the F6F Hellcat, embarking on the USS Randolph (CV-15), and conducting air operations including fighter sweeps over Tokyo, combat missions over Iwo Jima and Okinawa, and fighting off kamikaze attacks.
Contents
- On the Cover
- Decision Time
- Pre-Flight School
- The Yellow Peril
- Wings of Gold
- Dive Bombing
- A Side-Wheeler Carrier
- Air Group Twelve
- The USS Randolph (CV-15)
- First Tokyo Fighter Sweep
- Iwo Jima
- Kamikaze Hit
- Okinawa
- Combat Missions
- Kamikazes by the Dozen
- Farewell to Combat
- R&R Friendly Fire
- Back in the U.S. of A.
- Winding Down
- Photographs
Specifications
- Second edition (August 2008)
- 210 - 6 x 9 inch pages
- Paperback ISBN 1-57638-333-4 - $19.95
- Perfect bound, full-color wrap-around cover
- Hardcover ISBN 1-57638-336-9 - $34.95
- Blue linen cover with title stamped in gold on spine, full-color dust jacket
-
PDF file on CD disk
- 58,000 words
- 4 color photos on cover
- 20 B&W photos
Reviews and Testimonials
Robert Gadbois, a Falmouth resident, enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1942, the year he was a freshman at Rhode Island State College. He chose aviation training, became a Hellcat fighter pilot and saw action across the Pacific, including Iwo Jima and Okinawa and finally over Tokyo.
His memoir takes readers through his decision to become a pilot, through pre-flight school and into the depth of wartime action onboard the USS Randolph making its way to victory.
—Melanie Lauwers, Cape Cod Times, 2 October 2006
Book Excerpt
First Tokyo Fighter Sweep
The morning of February 9, VBF-12 boarded a liberty boat that took us to the Bunker Hill, CV-17, the flagship of Vice Admiral Marc A. Mitscher.
We were there with pilots from several carriers for briefing on a coming operation.
This meeting is vivid in my mind because it was most unusual. The entire morning was a briefing on the coming Iwo Jima operation. We were given two sets of maps, kneepad maps that fit on a pilot’s knee and was always handy while flying. The island was broken into grids.
One set of maps were actual aerial photos in black and white. The other set was an artist rendition bringing up to date the gun emplacements, etc. This set was in color.
We broke for lunch and returned to the hanger deck for the continuance of the operation.
The briefing officer entered and stated loud and clear that we were to put out of our minds everything we had learned about Iwo Jima. His next statement was to the effect that if by any chance we were captured, we were to know nothing about Iwo. That brought everybody’s complete attention.
Instead of Iwo, we were going to attack the Japanese home islands, including Tokyo. The briefing became an instant bedlam of cheers and wild anticipation.
In just a few days, we, the group being briefed, would be the very first fighters over the Japanese homeland and Tokyo. The only fighters there previously all had red meat balls on their wings.
We were shell-shocked by the time the briefing broke up with a stern warning that all this was confidential. You couldn’t tell even your best buddies.
Next day, we upped anchor and the whole task force left Ulithi for the open sea.
In the WW2 Cruise Chronicle by Dr. Richard Williams, Randy’s doctor:
“Shove off from Ulithi for a strike at the Jap—probably the homeland. Our force is comprised of five groups; our group is the Yorktown, Randolph, Langley and Belleau Wood. Washington, North Carolina (battleships), about three cruisers and sixteen cans. The entire force comprised of 11 CV’s (all that are operational at this time), 11 CVLs, eight battleships, 32 light cruisers, 72 cans. We can launch approximately 1100 planes.”
A formidable force indeed.
That evening heading towards my bunk, I noticed lights in the stateroom across the passageway.
I stuck my head in and introduced myself. The room was occupied by a ship’s officer that I hadn’t met before. He introduced himself and invited me in.
The first thing I noticed was that the bulkhead at the back of his bunk was plastered with photographs of football players. Closer examination showed that they were all New York Giants players.
I said, “Wow, you must be the Giants’ number one fan.” He laughed and stated that in a way, he was the number one fan. He and his family owned the team. His name was Tim Mara and he really did own them.
That started a friendship that lasted the whole cruise. Most evenings I spent in his cabin playing wild card games. We sure had some great games, mostly hearts, but they were a lot of fun.
Tim had a big collection of records, including every Spike Jones record available. From “Cocktails for Two” to “Beetle-balm.”
So that was the way most evenings were spent, talking, playing cards and listening to Spike Jones. Tim was just a regular guy; one would never expect him to be a wealthy man.
These evenings were of great therapy for me. It took my mind off tomorrow’s combat missions and enabled me to go right to sleep with thoughts of tranquility. Hours worth their weight in gold.
Captain Baker, of the Randy, was one great skipper. The only man aboard the ship that rated a salute was Captain Baker. You only saluted him the first time you saw him that day, second and third encounters required no salute. One felt a great deal of respect for the man. It was a happy ship.
Once we were all under way, the Air Group Commander, Charles Crommelin, held a briefing for the whole air group where he announced that we were headed for Tokyo. The reaction would be quite similar to an announcement that the Boston Red Sox had just won the World Series. Total pandemonium.
February 11, 1945. Heading north towards Tokyo. Scuttlebutt has it that today is D-4. I wonder if they are right. In the Navy scuttlebutt has two different meanings; one a rumor, two, a drinking fountain. We are talking about the former.
February 12. We are issued the following instructions stamped
CONFIDENTIAL.
MEMORANDUM
TASK FORCE FIFTY-EIGHT PILOTS
Subject: Air Combat Notes for Pilots.
Publish and post in all ready rooms.
1. The coming raid on Tokyo will produce the greatest air victory of the war for carrier aviation, but only if every air group commander, squadron commander, combat team leader, section leader and individual pilot abides by the fundamental rules of air combat that have been taught to them since the war started.
2. The battle will be primarily a fighter combat. The enemy will be forced to come up to protect the capital of his empire. He will be aggressive and eager to display his ability to his people on the ground. In his eagerness and inexperience he will meet his downfall in great numbers, but only if you keep your heads and apply your teamwork to the utmost.
3. After the fighter sweeps have reduced the fighter strength of the enemy, the VB and VT squadrons will be launched to inflict some permanent damage where it will do the most good.
Then followed three more pages of general instructions.
The next couple of days were filled with more briefings in my own squadron, VBF-12. Instructions on what to do if you become a prisoner to air-sea rescue maps and procedures.
Tomorrow morning will be our first baptism of combat. I guess it is rather normal for us to have some apprehension of what is to come.
Our flight surgeon put tomorrow’s fighting into context when he stated while having coffee in the wardroom. “Tomorrow someone’s mother will be crying. Will it be yours or his?”
Into the sack, and I must confess it took quite a while to get to sleep. Sleeping on a ship is really great once you get into the rhythm of the ship. When the bow rises on a wave, you breathe out. When the bow drops, you breathe in. It makes for a nice deep sleep. This is one night that there was little or no sleeping, never mind a deep sleep.
February 16, 1945, is the day the Navy takes its revenge for Pearl Harbor to the capital of the Japanese Empire, Tokyo.
After an early breakfast, you always make sure to eat a big breakfast on days of scheduled combat, as it could quite possibly be your last.
To the ready room for a final briefing. VBF-12 will be targeting airfields in and around the Tokyo area.
Objective:
1. Planes in the air
2. Planes on the ground
3. Hangers, field installations
4. Gun emplacements.
Aerology stated that the weather will be low clouds with rain with a possibility of improving over the mainland.
The squadron jukebox always rattling off songs. Each week they would change the records, but one record was never changed. Day after day throughout the cruise it would loudly emit its vocal. “Drinking Rum and Coca Cola, Working for the Yankee Dollar.” And it was playing now as we plotted our navigation. First plotting where the Randy would be at take-off time, then plotting our course to the target. Then it was the heading back to the ship’s position some three hours later. With radio silence strictly enforced, there would be no on-air vector to home. Correct navigation was a must.
Then came the air-sea rescue maps and correct calls with the reference point being the Suno Saki Light off the tip of Honshu.
If you were hit or had engine failure and had to come down at sea, you could count on the U.S. Navy.
As long as you could radio your position from the reference point, the odds were all in your favor that you would be picked up by one of our submarines or a Dumbo, usually a PBY Catalina flying boat.
The ocean was ours. Over land that was another story which had to be sweated out.
In the cockpit of the Hellcat, besides the parachute, you actually sat on a three- or four-inch pad which was filled with goodies. Two pint cans of water for drinking (I can still feel those cans pushing into my derriere; however, more than worth their weight in gold if you ever had to splash in). The kit also included a one-man life raft that instantly inflated upon pulling the tab. Plus a fishing kit, and of course bags of shark repellant.
I am most thankful that I never had to see for myself whether the shark repellant worked.
After I sat in the cockpit waiting for my turn to launch, I thought back to the end of the briefing where almost as an afterthought, the briefing officer stated that there were over 5000 Japanese fighters in the greater Tokyo area. We were only outnumbered some ten to one. Oh well, it is all in a day’s work. Yeah.
Launched into the low scudded clouds amid rain showers, we formed up and headed for Tokyo.
Just off the coast we switched gas from the belly tank (175 gallons) to the main tank, pulled the release lever and away plummeted the belly tank. After arming the machine guns, firing a short burst, we were ready for combat. Where is my rabbit’s foot?
Now for the first time we are actually over the Japanese Empire’s homeland. Not an enemy plane in sight.
The weather was improving as we reached our first target, Kasiwa Airbase. Still not a single plane in the air to be seen. There along the taxiway were a row of six or seven Betty two-engine bombers.
Our first pass was a strafing run through the Bettys and it was a great feeling to see flames and smoke come from those parked planes.
Pulling up and away, we made a 180-degree turn and on the second pass fired our six-inch rockets into hangars and support buildings.
Again clouds of smoke started to rise all over the field. Still no enemy aircraft and even miracle of all miracles, no anti-aircraft fire. I actually saw two Japanese running from an AA emplacement, hell bent for cover.
We had accomplished complete surprise. This is one time that the Japanese people had fallen victim to their own propaganda. After all, weren’t the Japanese ready to invade California? That is what they were broadcasting to their people.
I quote from Dr. Richards’ WW2 Cruise Chronicle for the day.
February 16 - Hit Tokyo at dawn. Tokyo radio screamed like a bunch of carrions and left the air. Cold rain and cloudy, sunny over Tokyo. Aircraft opposition light. We lose about three planes. Factories and airfields are blasted. Submarines do air-sea rescue.
Our cans sink Jap subs. Fighters in good spirits. Randy unmolested. Beat back to sea at night. Only 40 miles off Japan at one time.
Under today’s flight schedule I lined in: FIRST DAY OVER TOKYO. TOKYO ROSE IS VERY, VERY SILENT TODAY.
We were totally amazed at the lack of resistance in our area of operation.
We climbed and re-grouped, headed back to the Randy.
Before reaching the coast, while we were in a tight formation, the division leader motioned through his canopy that we were to inflict on the Japanese Empire the most degrading act we were capable of. We were to urinate on them.
Below the cockpit seat was a small funnel attached to a rubber hose that extended outside the aircraft. It was known as the comfort tube and used frequently on long flights.
In unison our flight pissed on the Japanese homeland. No matter that the urine flow would probably dissipate or evaporate before hitting the ground. It was the ultimate payback for the attack on Pearl Harbor.
There were thousands of U.S. Marines fighting on the islands who would literally give their right arm to be in my position.
It was unbelievable the mental high this act produced. It was like scoring the winning touchdown at the Rose Bowl.
To my knowledge we never repeated the act. Mostly because we didn’t have too many flights over the Japanese homeland. On most other flights we were too busy dodging AA or turkey necking looking for bogie aircraft.
In about fifteen minutes we saw in the distance a Naval aviator’s prettiest sight. In the distance you could see the long white wakes of the fleet. You can see the wakes before you can actually see the carriers.
Soon we were abeam the Randy and she was sailing into the wind ready to take us aboard. Wheels, flaps and tailhook down, machine guns on safety, the landing was routine.
After every combat mission we were debriefed as to what we did and saw. The highlight of debriefing was always the doling out of a shot of whiskey by the flight surgeon, purely for medical purposes, naturally.
At that time in my life, 23 years of age, I was a tee-totaler. I was the most popular aviator in my flight as they competed for my portion.
One must remember that in those war years we were so young and so full of piss and vinegar. Today, more than 55 years later, you can only look back and say, “Where, oh where, has all that vinegar gone?”
After debriefing, I had about an hour to kill before dinner. I spent it on my favorite place on the Randy, my Shangri-La where I could relax, let my thoughts wander and clear my brain for the next day.
It was the forecastle, way forward on the ship, just below the flight deck. It was wide open to mother nature, with the breeze blowing strongly through.
I sat on a capstan and let nature take its course. I remember that a few years earlier I was at Gilbert Stuart Junior High School in Providence. The music teacher was teaching us old masterpieces. One I remember more than all others, “On the Road to Mandalay, Where the Flying Fishes Play.”
Little did I know that in just a few years I would be sitting and watching the flying fishes play. Not on the road to Mandalay, but on the road to combat.
Many an hour I spent watching those flying fishes burst out of one crest, glide forward at great speed until it dove into another crest. Day after day they would race the Randy, never beating us, but never falling behind.
They were happy hours spent on the forecastle. I think one needs something like that to cleanse your soul and mind. Let’s face it, war is Hell and to be ready for the next day one has to improvise.
Now bring on dinner and all the conversations, war stories that are repeated over and over. There I was flat on my back at 10,000 feet when out of the sun came…
After dinner, up the ladder to the ready room to play acey deuce and chat. Finally, down to Tim’s stateroom for Spike Jones and a real hot game of hearts.
February 17, 1945. With the dawn came the weather which was marginal at best. It was decided that we had achieved our goal of air supremacy yesterday. Today we would be escorting the bombers on a raid way inland, the target being the Tachikawa aircraft engine plant.
This raid, comprising several carriers and air groups, would be led and coordinated by the skipper of Air Group 12, Cmdr. Charles Crommelin.
Today I was in sweep 3-B, launch 1415, land 1715. Sweep leader Lt. Cmdr. E.J. Pawka. Sweep call sign Three Baker Phantom.
Uneventful launch, weather much better. Fighters off first. Formed up by divisions. I was in the second division led by Lt. R.W. Drewelow, and flying on his wing. Lieutenant R.M. Witmer and Ens. W.E. Sankey made up the rest of the division.
Circling at 2500 feet and awaiting the launching of the bomber force. After they were all airborne, we grouped into a single large formation which we rode herd on at an altitude roughly a thousand feet above them.
Then it was off to the target. Today it was the engine plant, some ninety miles inland. According to the photos given at the briefing, this engine plant was huge, rectangular in shape and should stand out like a sore thumb.
By the time we hit the Japanese coast, enemy fighters started to appear in numbers. From a safe distance out, they would simulate a run on the bomber formation, but break it off before coming close.
What they were doing was trying to get our fighters to break formation and chase them. It would have been easy kills but also would have left the bombers wide open to their strafing runs. It was tempting, but we kept our cool and did not break our defensive formation.
Approaching the target it soon became apparent that they had surrounded this plant with scores of AA emplacements. Big black puffs began appearing long before we neared the engine plant. If they were hoping to scare us off, they failed.
Like everybody else there, I had my dreads. But, you shake it off and do what you are trained for. We continued to cover the bomber formations as they started into their dive runs.
In the midst of all the black puffs filled with shrapnel going out in all directions, a new and bigger sight opened in front of us. The dropped bombs were making huge holes in the roof and pillars of black smoke erupted along with orange tongues of flames. This place was so big you could hit it blindfolded.
Then in we fighters went firing in salvo our 5-inch rockets, picking out a spot that appeared undamaged by the bombers. Then it was get the hell out of there fast and cover the returning flight. Over the target I failed to see any of our aircraft not pull out of their dives, but the AA was so intense, it would be a miracle if all returned to base.
All the way back to the coast, the enemy fighters tried again to get us to break formation. The AA we couldn’t do much about, but we weren’t about to lose any planes by stupidity.
A welcome sight ahead, the ocean comes into view. A Navy pilot always had that feeling that as long as he could get his plane back over the water, the Navy would rescue him if his plane went down.
Besides our friendly submarines on station, we always had Dumbo, the old reliable Catalina flying boat, the PBY. Some pilots were also picked up by OS2U observation floatplanes launched from cruisers and battlewagons. Of course, further out from shore we could always count on destroyers and destroyer escorts.
In the distance the ships’ wakes appeared like magic, right where they were supposed to be. Good thing I paid attention in my navigation class. It is one big ocean out there.
The various air groups broke into separate formations and headed for their respective carriers. We headed for the Randy, and she never looked better.
The bombers broke formation first, ready for landings. The Randy, turned into the wind, was ready for our return. We still kept our eyes looking in all directions even though the carrier had their own Combat Air Patrol up. But the more eyes the merrier.
Finally, it was our division’s turn and we broke into a single column paralleling the Randy. Follow the landing check list so as not to do something really stupid like a real Dilbert, trying to land with your wheels up or your tail hook not extended. It’s been done before, but I hope and pray that it never happens to me.
It must be my lucky day, I caught a “Roger” on the approach right up to the LSO’s cut. Caught a wire and I was home safe and sound. After getting the signal, I retracted the tailhook, gave it the gun and sped across the barrier into comparative safety. But you always glance in that rear view mirror just to make sure someone hasn’t missed a wire and is flying down the deck right on your tail. It is always with a sense of relief that you see the barrier go up behind you.
Behind the barrier, you stop to have your wings folded and locked in that position. Only then can you taxi to your allotted space on deck. Then you unstrap your safety harness and chute, grab your plotting board, greet the plane captain and climb out of the cockpit. The flight deck under your feet feels good and solid. Finding your way through spinning propellers and deck tractors, it is down the ladder to your ready room. The old jukebox playing as usual “Drinking Rum and Coca Cola” never sounded better.
Now comes the debriefing and the war stories start making the rounds. “Did you see that Zero make his run out of the sun? Did you see that big explosion from that direct hit?” and on and on it goes. The stories get better with each mission. Human nature, I guess.
Quoting from The History of Bombfitron Twelve: “Our squadron in the past two days had shot down 29 Japanese planes in the air. We had lost three of our fighters, all in sweeps at the Tachikawa Aircraft Engine Plant. The AA was very heavy on this raid.”
The WW2 Cruise Chronicle states “February 17. Returned at dawn and hit the Jap again. Bombers this time destroyed many aircraft on the ground and target factories. Flak is heavy. Randolph loses five planes, gets about 50 Japs. Fire and crash on deck. Fire caused by fighter 175 gallon belly tank that was unable to be jettisoned. Thrust from deck landing propelled belly tank up the deck at 75 mph and then exploded into flames. Well trained Randy fire fighters had it under control in minutes. Sea is rough, cold, cloudy. The dope is that we refuel tomorrow and hit the Bonins the next day. Tokyo radio says that we have been repulsed with the loss of 142 aircraft, 20 ships, including a fleet carrier. We haven’t lost a single rowboat and are still attacking. San Francisco radio gives us headlines. This has been ample revenge for Pearl Harbor.”
February 18, 1945. Entire fleet heads off to the south towards Iwo Jima. Throughout the fleet, all crews are at their battle stations ready for whatever they throw at us. The loud gong and bugle calls that initiate general quarters is becoming all too familiar.
Another briefing, today we are going to hit both Chichi Jima and Ha Ha Jima in Bonins. Chichi Jima is the main target for its large radio station and destroyer base. We plan to take out both. All planes will take part with the fighters covering the bombers.
You may recognize Chichi Jima as it was the island where President Bush was shot down in a previous raid in his TBM torpedo bomber.
I recall very little of the raid on Ha Ha Jima, but boy do I ever remember Chichi Jima. They told us that the AA would be intense and were they ever right.
We ran into a complete surprise as we approached the targets. As usual came the big black puffs of AA, pretty good on altitude but a few hundred yards off our wing tips. Then it appeared, anti-aircraft fire with the white-gray phosphorous shells that exploded and sent out silvery tentacles in all directions.
Of this we had no warning, so its appearance was real scary as you know that if you were hit by just one of those tentacles, you were probably a goner. Any phosphorous hitting the wing would burn right through it. The best defense was fervent repeats of the Lord’s Prayer. It is amazing how religious you become in combat.
The bombers dove on target and we dove close behind. The radio station appeared to be already destroyed as I concentrated my rockets on a destroyer tied dockside. As soon as they were fired I pulled up and got the hell out of there with my throttle full forward.
Banking off from the target we resumed cover for the bombers. We saw no Japanese planes in the strike. Their phosphorous apparently a better defense than aircraft.
At the Bonins we were damn lucky. We lost no fighters and no dive bombers. Two torpedo bombers did fall victim to the AA and were lost with all hands.
February 19, 1945. Continued beating southward. Tokyo radio states that three landings at Iwo Jima have been repulsed. As usual, don’t believe what you hear. The initial landings had not even commenced at that hour.
Today the fleet oilers appeared and we prepared to refuel underway at sea. The squawk box blurted out it’s usual message, “The smoking lamp is out throughout the ship."
We are alongside an oiler, some 50 or 60 feet separates us. On the other side of the oiler is a heavy cruiser. Lines are fired between ships and heavy lines haul over the fuel lines. With high seas running it is very difficult to keep the fuel lines from being washed away. One line was hit by a wave and swept away. The second attempt worked and we commenced refueling.
Thank God we are on the Randy. On board the refueling heavy cruiser, all hands, enlisted and officers, are all in dress white uniforms. Imagine, one day out of combat, doing a dirty job and wear dress whites. The Randy is a happy ship, and I’ll bet a month’s wages that the heavy cruiser isn’t.