358 SQUADRON, RAF
JESSORE, INDIA.
May 1945
Some memories
thankfully fade with time and we are able to "carry on" but the
terrible brutalities of war will never fade. The events of my 25th sortie are
as sharply focused today as they were fifty years ago.
I had just
celebrated my 21st birthday and VE Day was a distant 3 weeks in the past. We
were however working harder than ever as the allied winter offensive of 1944/45
pushed the Japanese south out of Burma. 357 & 358 Squadrons carried out
Special Duty activities throughout South East Asia Command for British SAS,
American OSS, and the French SIS transporting agents and supplies into Drop
Zones located in Burma, Malaya, Siam, French Indo China and the Dutch East
Indies. We flew American B-24 Liberator bombers which had the required range
and carrying capacity. Takeoffs were in the afternoons to give the maximum
number of hours under the cover of night while over enemy territory. This often
provided spectacular sunsets outbound and colourful sunrises many hours later
on the return flight. The blackness of night also enabled us to penetrate the
monsoon weather fronts by flying between the lightning flashes emitting from
the ever present cumulonimbus clouds. The missions were solo, unescorted
sorties that penetrated deep into enemy territory. The shortest mission was to
Burma and the 8 hour duration was considered only a circuit and bump. A day
earlier we completed our longest mission which was to Singapore where four
Australians were disrupting the Japanese from a hideout in the mountains. The
mission covered 3000 miles and took 23 hours & 50 minutes. It was flown at
500 feet above sea level except for the actual drop at the DZ. The payload was
only 4 containers as three of the four bomb bays were required fuel cells. The
next day we were being briefed for what was to be our most dangerous and costly
sortie.
29 MAY 1945
W/C P.G.D. Farr was
reading mission orders: " Smith, you will be dropping three OSS agents and
14 containers into a DZ near the town of Korat, Siam. There will be an OSS
observer along to witness the drop. Your takeoff time is 00:00 hours to place
you over the DZ at dawn. Your aircraft is "P" for Peter. The I.O.
will brief you on enemy activities. Good luck."
Well isn’t that
just peachy keen. This means we will be returning in broad daylight from 600
miles behind enemy lines with only the tail and mid upper turret. The front
turret, ball turret, beam guns and armour plating had all been removed long ago
to make room for heavier payloads. It addition, it was to be the first trip
under the new policy of making the drops at dawn or dusk. Oh well, there are
always plenty of clouds to take cover in. Sure.
Following the
briefing we drew our parachutes, weapons and rations from stores and checked
out the B-24. Everybody would be fully armed. This was to be the last mission
of my tour and I was looking forward to more pleasant pursuits. In fact a plan
was already in place to meet up with by best friend Jim Gibson who had
remustered to Bomb-aimer and recently arrived at 356 Squadron from Boundary Bay.
We had been together all through school and joined up together in May 1942. The
reunion was set for July in Darjeeling. As it turned out we did meet in July
‘45 but not as planned.
We had a long
flight of over 15 hours ahead but I was too keyed up to rest. I finished
reading a Mickey Spillany novel "You only Die Once" and after dinner
sat through the station movie "For Whom the Bell Tolls". What could
be more prophetic. Everyone arrived at the aircraft at 22:30 where we met the
OSS agents Major John Gildee, Sgt. E.J."Mac" McCarthy, Cpl.
"Nap" Naparolski and the observer Lt. Reid S. Moore for the first
time. Take off was made at 23:59 in total darkness. At 06:30 with the coastal
mountains far behind , we began a descent to reach 500 ft. at the DZ in Siam. This
was when, one by one, things started to go wrong. The sun was rising earlier
than expected and for the first time in 1 1/2 years the sky was completely
clear. Wall to wall CAVU. No hiding place today! Just then the intercom came
alive when Bomb-aimer Jack Draper called "enemy fighters at 2
o’clock." Nine Oscar type fighter planes were closing in fast. Three set
up a race track for head-on attacks; three did the same on the starboard
quarter and three strafed from below and above. Mostly they stayed away from
the tail turret. I began violent evasive manoeuvres and dove for the deck. The
frontal attacks were devastating. We were systematically being shot to pieces.
"Lofty" Brenchley, navigator, was killed in one of the first attacks.
Bill Pinckney, mid-upper gunner fired steady bursts at the fighters coming in
head-on until he too was hit. Soon the flight deck was in a shambles with the
cannon shells and bullets slamming about everywhere. The noise was deafening. I
couldn't raise the Bomb-aimer on the intercom so I gave Bob Poole, my co-pilot,
the order to jettison the containers. The jettison toggle is located between
the pilots seats and just as Bob began to pull the toggle up he was mortally
hit full in the chest which caused him to straighten and pull the toggle right
through without the pause needed to let the bomb bay doors open. Five
containers dropped free but the rest were hung up inside the bomb bay. The
fighters kept up the their attacks destroying the starboard elevator, radios,
generator panel, engine controls, instruments and what was left of the engines.
The last of our airspeed was bleeding off as I gave the "Crash
Landing" order. We had rehearsed this drill many times and I prayed the
crew in the aft section would hear it and act quickly. We were too low to
parachute even if we had wanted to. The only hope of survival was to try the
tree top landing technique used by Canadian Bush Pilots. At the last minute I
lowered the flaps to reduce the airspeed and dropped the undercarriage to
absorb some of the energy of the impact. When the sound of the trees began
scraping along the belly of the aircraft I braced both feet against the
instrument panel and hauled back on the control column with all my might. Even
with the co-pilots inert body draped over the controls, the strength born of
necessity helped me put the B-24 into a full stall. There was a colossal
rendering of metal as the plane crashed through the trees. The wings, with
their load of fuel, sheared off right away: good riddance I thought. The fuselage
careened on hitting more trees before coming to rest deep in the forest. The
impact knocked the wind out of me and when I recovered I was folded up around
the control column. There was a small hole in the side of the fuselage which I
soon made large enough to crawl out and was quickly followed by Bill Pugh the
2nd Wireless operator. His foot caught in some jagged metal and he ended
hanging upside down. A bullet through his hand made it quite useless but with
my new found strength I just picked him up and lowered him to the ground. I
made my way to where the aft section of the B-24 had come to rest. Most of the
bomb bay had been destroyed when the wings sheared off. What was left was in
flames with ammunition from the containers that had hung up exploding in all
directions.
More chaos was
added as the fighters kept strafing the crash site. To my great relief I found
the OSS agents and the rest of the crew in the wreckage of the aft section of
the aircraft where they were struggling to escape with the wounded. Just then
"Curly" Copley the tail gunner approached from the remains of the
tail section. We made two trips into wreck to bring all the survivors out. The
list of injuries was daunting. Cpl. Naparolski had a gaping hole in his abdomen
and would not survive the day. Major Gildee had a broken collar bone. Sgt.
McCarthy had a fractured back and other injuries. Lt. Reid had burns to his
left thigh but he was able to hobble about. Bill "Taffy" Parsons had
a bullet through his foot but was mobile. Ramsey Roe the "Screen"
Dispatcher and Curly Copley were relatively unscathed. Flight Sergeants Poole,
Brenchely, Draper and Bill Pinckney sadly all perished. In all nine had
survived the action. It was small consolation to realise that we were probably
the first to ever live through a crash landing in a B-24. We began taking stock
and tending to injuries. I had just started to cut some small trees to make a
litter when voices were heard. They may belong to Japanese soldiers so it was
decided to leave the site and find a place to hide. McCarthy would have to be
carried but we couldn’t carry Naparolski as well and because of his grim
condition I decided to send the group away under Major Gildee as he was the
senior and most experienced man on the ground. I elected to stay behind with
Cpl. Naparolski and give the rest a chance to escape. Not an easy decision but
who ever said war was easy. I gave Major Gilder my S&W revolver, a compass
and a map showing our present location and told him to head south as there were
some 300,000 Japanese troops north of us who were on the run from Burma. After
the group left I tried to comfort Naparolski but he was in a desperate
condition and died without waking. I checked the crew members who had perished
and destroyed maps etc. I had lost a lot of blood from a head wound and rested
against a tree for a while trying not to think of the consequences if the
voices were from Japanese soldiers. The treatment of captured aircrew by the
Japanese was brutal and final. A crew from 159 Squadron, which crashed in Burma
in 1945, was systematically tortured then beheaded. The three Japanese officers
and three NCO’s were later tried and executed for this atrocity. There were
other similar reports. I had kept a Sten gun just in case. I came fully alert
when I heard voices but happily they belonged to natives and not military
uniforms. They were local natives from a nearby village who had found the main
party and had been sent back for Nap and I. So far so good. I stopped for a
rest during the walk to the village and woke when I felt a tugging on my arm.
It was a native who took a fancy to my wrist watch. The last I saw he was
making off with it on a white horse. Well I thought, he’s welcome. I was given
a bowl of hot rice broth which helped revive me. A mirror was produced and I
soon realised the extent of my head wound. I got the flap of scalp more or less
in place and wrapped it with a bandage. By evening we had all been reunited at
a village which was just like something out of National Geographic. The small
huts were bamboo and thatch structures supported off the ground on spindly
legs. We were very happy to have this shelter.
Next morning we
were startled awake when a group rode up on horseback. .The leader was a Thai
police lieutenant who had come to help us. He warned that a Japanese patrol was
coming and we had to leave the village immediately. We went by bullock cart to
a hiding place by a nearby stream. The last ‘K’ ration was produced and we
shared four Camel cigarettes and chuckled at the incredible message inside the
book of matches which read: "JOLLY GOOD LUCK TO YOU WHEREVER YOU ARE FROM
DROMEDARY FOODS, Chicago, Ill. USA."
We travelled for
two days with bullock carts carrying the wounded and eventually came to a river
where a boat was waiting to take us south to Bangkok. The first night on the
river we stopped at a house located on an island where a Chinese couple fed us
a hot meal, rice and something. Using two chop sticks, the wife rolled some
cigarettes that looked as big as cigars. The tobacco was rolled up in a large
leaf and tasted just fine. I don’t know what the ingredients were but it hit
the spot and we slept like logs despite the hoards of mosquitoes. Next morning
Lt. Reid Moore related a dream he had where, he said, we were taken to a BOAC
building, fed ice cream, weighed our baggage then boarded a flying boat for
home. All this after only one smoke.
The next day we
arrived at the house of Captain Rian Pacheetool, police captain for the
province of Nakorn-Sawarn. After some food and first aid we next had to cross a
rail line which was constantly guarded by Japanese patrols. One by one we
sneaked across. Copley and Roe carried the helpless McCarthy who never once
uttered a sound although he must have been in serious pain. The next two days
were spent on an old motor launch crouched down most of the time to avoid being
seen by Japanese patrol boats. We arrived in Bangkok where some 15,000 Japanese
soldiers manned the local garrison. They seemed to be everywhere. An ancient
bus arrived and we piled on board for the next leg of our journey. Straw mats
covered the windows which concealed us until a breeze would blow them open. The
soldiers were so close we could have touched them and several stared at us for
uncomfortably long periods. It was broad daylight and our disguises were not
really very good being mostly those conical rain hat seen in the Orient. We
were taken to the Thai Police headquarters and that night went to bed in a
cell-like dorm on straw mats laid on solid boards. Before sleep we were led
outside to a rain filled mud hole for a much needed bath. I was reminded of the
water holes seen on many prairie farms. Even though we were standing ankle deep
in mud, it was a welcome dip, at least until I lost what was apparently the last
bar of soap in the entire army. One guard was very upset. Earlier a RAF bombing
raid had knocked out the electric and water services so maybe he didn’t think
too kindly of British airmen. I learned months later that 356 Squadron had made
the raid on Bangkok and my best friend (and Bomb-aimer) Jim Gibson carried the
movie camera in his aircraft. Fortunately no one was injured.
I was awakened in
the early hours of the morning by Gildee and two Americans I had never seen
before. They were Major Dick Greenlee and Captain Howard Palmer who were
operating a secret OSS post in Bangkok. Our presence in the country placed the
whole underground movement in serious jeopardy. Although the Japanese occupied
Siam, all of their army, navy, air force and police made up the Free Thai
underground with the Regent of Siam in command. The General of the army was
second in command. We had been instructed that if we were ever shot down in
Siam to surrender to the Siam forces who would protect us from the Japanese.
Well, this certainly applied in our case. A similar underground had been
operating in French Indo China until it was discovered by the Japanese with
disastrous results. The police patrol that found us had been sent out with
orders to prevent, at all costs, our capture by the Japanese. A Jap patrol had
in fact searched the village half an hour after we left. The patrol was later
ambushed by the Thai police and the bodies buried.
A plan had been
hastily devised to smuggle the OSS agents out of the country. The OSS agents were
being spirited away to keep their presence secret from the Japanese. They also
wanted me as Captain of the aircraft out of the reach of the Japanese. There
was room for one more British airman and Curly Copley was chosen because of his
long service overseas. The rest of the crew would be safe in a Thai internment
camp.
With the skipper
gone and the Navigator and Bomb-aimer both dead, the AG’s, WOP’s and
Dispatchers would tell the Japanese interrogators that all they knew about
their mission were routine duties. The idea was that with five graves at the
crash site and with four interned crew members, the Japanese could be persuaded
to believe that the complete nine man crew had been accounted for. I woke
Timber Woods and told him of the plan and instructed him to tell the Japs that
the Lib had been on a meteorological flight. The OSS officers would keep tabs
on them and get them out as soon as possible. The five of us were taken by auto
to the OSS headquarters located in the palace of the Regent of Siam. The
Regents’ elegant dining room table served as an operating table for the two
Thai doctors who worked for hours repairing our injuries. One had received his
training in England and the other in New York. We were obviously in very good
hands however there was not much in the way of first aid or medical equipment.
The laceration in my scalp was stitched together using a curved shoemakers
needle and a pair of electrical lineman’s pliers. A car battery tester was used
to flush out the wound. I found out quickly just how tough the scalp really is
and I remember wishing I had one of the cigarettes the Chinese lady had made.
Major Gildee was a huge man more than six feet tall and over 250 pounds. It
took the combined strength of four of us to set his broken collar bone. However
during the night his arm came loose from our make-shift bandage and the break
needed to be reset. The decision was then made to risk a trip to a hospital and
have plaster casts put on Gildee’s and Mac’s fractures. Gildee related later
how a Jap patrol had come while they had left the car and before reaching the
hospital doors. He said he was so scared that he hid behind a tiny nurse. We
had a chuckle at that image.
The food at the
palace was remarkable. It was prepared at a five star hotel about four miles
away and brought on foot by servants using shoulder yokes. We even had ice
cream once! After a few days the Regent, whose code name was "Ruth",
announced that he had arranged a few days of R & R for everyone. A few
months back an OSS agent stationed in Bangkok for several months had gone off
his rocker and their were tremendous difficulties getting him out of the
country After some half dozen rendezvous with Catalina flying boats and
submarines in the Bay of Siam, he was finally evacuated to India. The Regent
didn’t want a repeat of this harrowing incident. He believed that the reason
for the agent’s difficulty was the confinement and stress of the job and the
lack of female companionship. He was probably right, but his idea of R & R
was incredible. He had apparently bought a house and stocked it with food, wine
and of course female companions. He also cordoned of the area with soldiers for
a mile on all four sides. However Greenlee and Palmer considered the plan too
dangerous. Anyway, it was clearly "above and beyond the call of
duty". The Regent’s last plea was "but Dick, even I can’t afford
these women". The matter was resolved as some Chinese had moved in across
the street and began spying on the palace. The poverty in the country made it easy
to find people willing to spy. A speed boat was kept moored by the rivers edge
at the back of the property and some vehicles were kept inside the palace
grounds in case a hurried escape became necessary. There was also a company of
soldiers next door. Anyway, the decision was made to move out and we began
another leg of the journey to freedom.
At midnight of the
next day we piled into a battered old bus and headed out. An Australian who had
escaped from a prisoner of war camp on the Jap railway came with us. He was
just skin and bones and crouched in a corner all the time without ever
speaking. The plan was to proceeded to a rendezvous about 150 miles north of
Bangkok. We hadn’t travelled very far however when trouble started. Half way up
a hill in heart of the city the bus began back-firing. There was a curfew in
force and it wasn’t very long before a Jap patrol arrived. The clicking of
breach blocks inside the bus announced that we all intended to fight if
necessary. The straw curtains on the windows were held closed while the driver
explained to the patrol that he was transporting prisoners to jail. All the
time he kept the starter engaged and the bus slowly crested the hill and
coasted down the other side. We turned into an old race track and hid in the
abandoned horse stalls. Luckily the Japs had decided to let us pass. Our Thai
police driver and escort showed incredible ingenuity, courage and control in
saving the situation. A runner was sent back and soon two British type cars
arrived to take us back to the Palace. There was no problem fitting our bulk
into these small cars. The next night we left Bangkok with a tow truck and a
spare bus following along and travelled several hours north to a small airfield
in the village of Ban-Pe. Lt.Moore, Major Gildee and I were passengers in an
antique Fairchild piloted by no less than the head of the entire Thai air
force. The mag drop on run up was a whopping 400 RPM but we took off anyway.
There was a tense moment in route until we crested a hill along the flight
path. Curly was in a Taylor craft that became lost and had to make an emergency
landing but another plane arrived to take him to the rendezvous site. A small
twin engined Beechcraft-11A twin engined aircraft carried rest of the group. We
were all relieved when we landed and were back together.
On June 14th a DC-3
from 357 Squadron piloted by F/L Lewis arrived to fly us back to India. A
replacement OSS group was on board as well as a few cases of American beer in
cans and cigarettes. This was my first taste of the famous Budweiser beer and I
order it today just to relish the memory of that first taste.
The DC-3 had
suffered a tear in the fabric of one elevator during the landing in the rough
field and there was a moment of panic until a piece of cloth and some glue were
produced. The beer and smokes were heaven sent and our spirits rose . Within
the hour we were airborne and headed for home. A refuelling stop was made at
Rangoon which had just been captured from the Japanese. Seven hours later we
landed at the Alipore airport in Calcutta. It was difficult to believe that the
entire episode had taken only three weeks.
Curly and I and the
Aussie spent two weeks at Escape and Evasion HQ in Calcutta operated by
Squadron Leader Huxley. A period of hiding was necessary for the safety the
Siamese villagers and others who helped in the escape and until the crew were
secure in the internment camp. It was here I learned that some Japanese fighter
squadrons had moved in the same day that we had left on our mission and our
flight path took us right near their base. The Aussie stayed with us and after
awhile started to converse a bit. However, one evening when we were taken to a
movie for a bit of relaxation, he freaked right out when Pathe News showed film
of the allies entering the German concentration camps. We were greatly troubled
and spent as much time as possible helping him to recover.
We made a
clandestine visit to the Calcutta General Hospital for a checkup and returned
to the squadron at the end of June 1945. The rest of the crew were brought out
about two months later for a grand celebration. The four crew members who died
have been buried at the KANCHANABURI WAR CEMENTERY in Malay. This is a
picturesque, beautifully kept and very large cemetery located by the Khwai Noi
river. It also contains the remains of the many allied prisoners of war who
perished while building the infamous Japanese railway in Malay.
The following week
I travelled to Darjeeling for some R & R and the reunion with Jim Gibson
that we had planned earlier in the year. It was here that I made my second
escape but that is another story.
This story was made
more complete by details related in "Escape From Siam" as told by
Curly Copley back in 1954.
Over and Out.
F/O Harry V, Smith,
RCAF, Retired
DFC; Croix de
Guerre.
29 May 1995.
Revised May 12,
1996
This story
originally appeared in "Contact" the magazine of the Commonwealth Air
Training Plan Museum.
Visit the Commonwealth Air Training Plan Museum
Last updated March 18, 2004