Read Online Escape From Davao by John D. Lukacs - Free Book Online
Authors: John D. Lukacs
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watery tracks of chugging Japanese vessels.
“The scene below me was like a bril iant lithograph, the colors almost too real,” he remembered. With the dazzling sun at his back, he headed into his dive. Docks, piers, and warehouses bustling with activity materialized. Seeing that the heaviest concentration of Japanese ships was not along the western shores of Olongapo as he had been told, but instead near Grande Island, he descended toward the latter.
He looked for a large tanker—his primary target—but could not locate the vessel. While cataloguing his options, he spied a medium-sized transport steaming between Grande Island and the western shore and swooped down for the attack.
Gunning Kibosh ’s throttle wide open at 5,000 feet, he flew into a storm of fire opening up from ship and shore. His eyes riveted on the transport, he plunged the P-40 to 2,000 feet and ripped the release handle, letting loose the 500-pound bomb. He pul ed back on the stick, and while looking over his shoulder saw the bomb splash about forty feet from its
target—a close miss. Angered, he swung Kibosh back around, almost down to water level, and “gave the Jap the .50 caliber treatment,” sweeping up and down the decks in three, blistering strafing runs before focusing his guns on the bridge. Mortal y wounded, the ship stopped dead in the water.
Crosland charged down to join Dyess and the two planes tore off to engage other targets. Dyess blasted four smal warehouses on the north side of the island and sent swarms of Japanese stevedores and soldiers scurrying for cover as strips of bul ets splintered piers and buildings. He then turned his attention to two 100-ton motor vessels chugging between the island and the Bataan shore. Dyess caught one of the boats in the open and sprayed fire at the ship’s forward guns before aiming at the hul and the engine room. Crosland, fol owing Dyess’s lead, ripped into the other side of the vessel with his .50 caliber guns. Dyess was sweeping around for another run and came in low, his plane just skimming the surface of the water. “The Japs aboard her were putting on quite an act,” he later wrote. “Those astern were rushing forward and those forward were rushing astern. They couldn’t have done better for my purpose.
They met amidships where my bul ets were striking.” Seeing the ship list and then begin sinking, he clicked off the last of his ammunition into the other launch. Then both pilots winged home.
Safely on the ground at Bataan Field at 1415, Dyess entered the operations shack and cal ed George. “I had me a field day,” he said. He then provided an out-of-breath, play-by-play description of his successes—as wel as his failure with the “big egg”—supplemented with commentary characteristic of his sense of humor. When asked to elaborate on the fate of one of his targets, he replied, laconical y, “I’m afraid the boat leaks.” Yet Dyess was hardly content. “I want to try again right away,” his voice begged. “May I?”
Twilight was fast approaching and Dyess was running out of time—and chances. His crew moved about Kibosh , feeding fuel and a steady meal of .50 caliber cartridges into the tanks and magazines. Dyess was intent on making this mission—his third and final venture—count. On his second sortie, he had again missed one of the large freighters with his 500-pound bomb, but the miss was so close that bomb fragments had punctured the ship’s superstructure and also damaged some nearby barges and lighters.
Upon returning, Dyess pleaded with George for one more opportunity. George was hesitant; approaching nightfal and tropical winds stirring the airfields gave him reason to pause. But the old ace “eventual y granted permission,” said Dyess. “If he hadn’t, I’d have missed the best shooting of the day.”
Entering his dive at sundown, Dyess noticed that the freighters he had seen that afternoon had left the Grande Island docks and were
“The scene below me was like a bril iant lithograph, the colors almost too real,” he remembered. With the dazzling sun at his back, he headed into his dive. Docks, piers, and warehouses bustling with activity materialized. Seeing that the heaviest concentration of Japanese ships was not along the western shores of Olongapo as he had been told, but instead near Grande Island, he descended toward the latter.
He looked for a large tanker—his primary target—but could not locate the vessel. While cataloguing his options, he spied a medium-sized transport steaming between Grande Island and the western shore and swooped down for the attack.
Gunning Kibosh ’s throttle wide open at 5,000 feet, he flew into a storm of fire opening up from ship and shore. His eyes riveted on the transport, he plunged the P-40 to 2,000 feet and ripped the release handle, letting loose the 500-pound bomb. He pul ed back on the stick, and while looking over his shoulder saw the bomb splash about forty feet from its
target—a close miss. Angered, he swung Kibosh back around, almost down to water level, and “gave the Jap the .50 caliber treatment,” sweeping up and down the decks in three, blistering strafing runs before focusing his guns on the bridge. Mortal y wounded, the ship stopped dead in the water.
Crosland charged down to join Dyess and the two planes tore off to engage other targets. Dyess blasted four smal warehouses on the north side of the island and sent swarms of Japanese stevedores and soldiers scurrying for cover as strips of bul ets splintered piers and buildings. He then turned his attention to two 100-ton motor vessels chugging between the island and the Bataan shore. Dyess caught one of the boats in the open and sprayed fire at the ship’s forward guns before aiming at the hul and the engine room. Crosland, fol owing Dyess’s lead, ripped into the other side of the vessel with his .50 caliber guns. Dyess was sweeping around for another run and came in low, his plane just skimming the surface of the water. “The Japs aboard her were putting on quite an act,” he later wrote. “Those astern were rushing forward and those forward were rushing astern. They couldn’t have done better for my purpose.
They met amidships where my bul ets were striking.” Seeing the ship list and then begin sinking, he clicked off the last of his ammunition into the other launch. Then both pilots winged home.
Safely on the ground at Bataan Field at 1415, Dyess entered the operations shack and cal ed George. “I had me a field day,” he said. He then provided an out-of-breath, play-by-play description of his successes—as wel as his failure with the “big egg”—supplemented with commentary characteristic of his sense of humor. When asked to elaborate on the fate of one of his targets, he replied, laconical y, “I’m afraid the boat leaks.” Yet Dyess was hardly content. “I want to try again right away,” his voice begged. “May I?”
Twilight was fast approaching and Dyess was running out of time—and chances. His crew moved about Kibosh , feeding fuel and a steady meal of .50 caliber cartridges into the tanks and magazines. Dyess was intent on making this mission—his third and final venture—count. On his second sortie, he had again missed one of the large freighters with his 500-pound bomb, but the miss was so close that bomb fragments had punctured the ship’s superstructure and also damaged some nearby barges and lighters.
Upon returning, Dyess pleaded with George for one more opportunity. George was hesitant; approaching nightfal and tropical winds stirring the airfields gave him reason to pause. But the old ace “eventual y granted permission,” said Dyess. “If he hadn’t, I’d have missed the best shooting of the day.”
Entering his dive at sundown, Dyess noticed that the freighters he had seen that afternoon had left the Grande Island docks and were
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