Vol.35, No. 07- October 2012 - A Punch in the Nose! - B-25s

A Punch
in the Nose!
Down on the deck with gun-nosed B-25s
by John “Jack” Bronson
as told to and written by Jim Busha
During World War II,
airplane manufacturers at North American
Aviation produced some
of the most impressive
and prominent aircraft
of the war. From the
SNJ/A-T6 Texan to the
P-51 Mustang, which
some will arg ue was
the greatest all-around
fighter ever produced,
bar none. Together with
the twin-engine B-25 Mitchell bomber,
these three great planes helped create and establish a foundation of aerial dominance over Axis aircraft. Of
the three planes, the B-25 was by all
appearances one of the most remodeled, reconfigured aircraft from original drawings.
Designed as a land-based, mediumaltitude bomber, the B-25 was tasked
early on with one of the most spectacular missions of the war. On April 18,
1942, 16 heavily laden B-25s took off
from the pitching deck of the USS Hornet. Led by Lt. Col. James H. Doolittle,
20 OCTOBER 2012
this dog not only had a
very loud bark but also
an extremely lethal bite!
Jack in Princess-Pat.
these aircraft and brave crews proved
early on that Japan, thought to be
invincible by its people and military,
was susceptible to an angry, awakening giant! It was soon learned that in
aerial warfare, changes in tactics and
aircraft designs, coupled with hidden
capabilities of existing aircraft, paved
the way for the successful outcome of
Allied victory during World War II. Nowhere was the use of the B-25 more
predominant and noticeable than in
the overshadowed South Pacific theater. The North American B-25 was labeled “the war dog” of the Pacific, and
Earning My Wings
“Shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor, I
along with thousands
o f o ther yo ung men
around the country enlisted in the service. I
had never flown before,
and I thought by joining the Air Corps this would get me
into the fight the quickest,” said John
Bronson. “A year later I received my
gold bar and wings and was assigned
and posted to the 345th Bomb Group
stationed at Columbia Army Air Base,
Columbia, South Carolina. The 345th
was made up of four squadrons: the
498th, 499th, 500th, and the 501st. I
was assigned to the 498th as a copilot
on the North American B-25.
“Our crew was made up of pilot, copilot, navigator-bombardier, engineer,
radio man, and turretgunner. We all
trained in unison and as a team. There
JIM BUSHA
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Kaweng New Ireland
498th in formation “on the way.”
22 OCTOBER 2012
was no time for egos, and there was no
“I” in team. We all had a job to do no
matter what the sacrifice. After practice
bombing much of South Carolina and
surrounding areas, we were deemed
combat ready and given brand-new
B-25Ds stripped of all cold weather
equipment. Not officially told where
we were being sent, even a dummy like
me knew where we were headed—the
South Pacific-via California.
“After leaving San Francisco, we
began our lengthy journey into the
unknown over the vastness of the
Pacific Ocean. Flying a brand-new
twin-engine aircraft also gave us a
false sense of security. We all knew the
North American Aviation employees
were fine builders of airplanes; we just
didn’t want to disprove the fact sitting in a dinghy in the middle of the
ocean! Actually, the B-25D was a very
precise, well-built airplane. It was fast
and maneuverable, almost fighterlike,
with a very dependable and reliable
Wright R-2600 Double Cyclone radial
engine slung beneath each wing. The
maximum speed was around 284 mph
with a range of about 1,500 miles and
a 3,000-pound bomb load.
Baptism of Fire
“After arriving safely in Australia
from our overwater journey, we were
sent on to Port Moresby, New Guinea,
where we, the now designated “Air
Apaches,” flew our first combat mission starting in June of 1943. I recall
the first five missions were flown at
medium altitudes between 8,000 to
11,000 feet. As we came up on our target, flying in three-ship elements, with
the lead B-25 in front and a wingman
on either side, the lead B-25 would call
for bomb bays open, and then on his
signal we would drop our bombs in
unison, with all three B-25s unloading
their ordnance on target.
“At the time, all the B-25Ds had
glass noses in the front, allowing a
very spectacular view of the terrain
below. But only the lead B-25 carried
a bombardier in its nose; the rest of
us carried navigators. If the target
was land-based, we had a much higher
success rate of destruction because it
Hallum and Near Miss. Hallum
painted almost all of the nose art
as he was a commercial artIst.
was usually stationary. But if the target was a ship, it became a whole ’nother story. The Japanese had learned
early on the art of avoidance and survival tactics from overflying B-25s. The
simple use of a zigzag pattern or other
water-dodge techniques by Japanese
ships caused much grief and many
more misses to these priority targets.
Little did I know that a major makeover of our B-25s and a change in tactics was already in the works at 5th Air
Force Command.
“Our B-25s were quickly retrofitted with eight machine guns in the
nose, and our high-level bomb runs
were cast aside for a new and improved low-level deliver y system.
With bomb bays open, the release of
our ordnance was just a push of a button away. No more need for bombardiers as the bombs simply slammed
into the water below and skipped to
their target. Some penetrated the
thin, steel sides of the ship while others fell below the water line and detonated after their time-delayed fuses
went off. In most cases, if the bombs
were close enough under water, the
concussion alone would cave in the
thin sides of the ships. After all testing and trials were completed, some
by A-20 Havocs, it was determined
J. Rutternee
Hitt and Crew
Some of the better fighters of the 498th, with Jack 3rd from left.
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23
Boschwald and McCall.
that the 345th Bomb Group would
be sent to Australia for retrofitting of
this new equipment.
“Other items were removed, such
as the bottom turret; because flying
between 50 and 100 feet above the
oceans and jungles of the South Pacific, it was very doubtful that a Japanese Zero would attempt an attack
from below! An auxiliary gas tank
was installed in its place allowing for
even greater ranges to targets. The
addition of a K-21 automatic camera
was mounted on the bottom of the
rear fuselage and pointed downward,
and the development of these photos
helped intelligence personnel assess
strike damage.
“Depending on the mission and the
targets to be destroyed, an assortment
of bombs would be carried in the bomb
bay. The use of parachute-equipped
bombs, also known as para-frags, was
used against parked aircraft, antiaircraft positions and vehicles. Time-delayed fuse bombs were used against
ships and barge traffic, using skipbombing techniques. And for that “special occasion,” the use of phosphorous
bombs were used for destroying anything and everything on the ground,
including personnel. It also created a
huge smoke screen for our retreating
B-25s, causing much anxiety to enemy
antiaircraft gunners.
24 OCTOBER 2012
The B-25 Barbie III at
Sun ’n Fun 2012.
Heavyweight Contender
“When all work was completed on
our B-25s, most of us were awestruck
upon seeing our aircraft. When we
had turned the planes in for modification, they had the appearance of a
slim, trim lightweight boxer, but as
I stood in front of that gun package,
with eight .50 cals pointing directly
at me, my only thought was “I hope
I’m never on the receiving end of this.”
This lightweight was now definitely a
heavyweight in more ways than one.
They never took a pound off that ship,
where they didn’t add two more to it!
“The 498th Squadron was known
as the ‘Falcons,’ and because we
were going to be flying at very low
altitudes, we wanted to show the
Japanese on the ground the last terrifying thing they would ever see. A
very large and menacing falcon head
adorned most of the B-25s in my
squadron. One of our bombardiers,
Lt. Allen Hallum, was a commercial
artist before the war, and he painted
the noses of our ships. Because of
Lt. Hallum’s talents, he was the only
bombardier allowed to remain, the
rest being sent to B-24 outfits.
“After completing 25 missions as
copilot, I was promoted to first pilot
and given a crew of my own. There
were two basic reasons why I was promoted to first pilot. Either the poor
fella who was ahead of me in ranking
did not return from a mission or our
flight surgeon, Capt. S. Blumenthal,
determined that the pilot I replaced
was unfit to fly combat. Most pilots, if
they made it that far, were grounded
after 40 to 50 missions.
“Capt. Blumenthal had a very simple means to determine if we were fit
or not. During the morning briefings
for our missions, the pilots would all
gather in the briefing tent, and before
we took our seats, we filled our coffee cups from a coffee urn located in
the corner. With our hands shaking,
knowing what lie[s] ahead in the next
few hours, we walked to our seats.
Capt. Blumenthal sat in the back of
the room and watched us. If you made
it to your seat with at least a half a
cup of coffee, you were fit and able to
fly. If not, and your shaken cup were
empty, you would be pulled off flight
status. ‘Nervous in the service’ is what
he called it!
Fortress Rabaul
“One of the missions we prepared
for was one of the biggest so far—a
surprise attack at Rabaul. With over
300 Japanese aircraft scattered between four airfields near Rabaul, this
was definitely a priority target. An
all-out massive air strike was drafted
and formulated by 5th AF Command.
Rabaul was heavily defended by hundreds of antiaircraft guns, and with
the experienced Japanese aviators on
the island, we needed to get in early
and by absolute surprise.
“In the darkened early morning
hours of October 12, 1943, dozens of
B-25s came to life as we taxied out for
takeoff. Our base at Dobodura, New
Guinea, was a mere 460 miles away
from Rabaul, and the strip at Dobodura, like most of the South Pacific
strips, was made up of marsten matting laid atop crushed coral. When the
first B-25 roared down the runway,
the massive power of two big radial
engines caused a huge wall of coral
dust. Each B-25, loaded down with
ordnance and fuel, was to take off 10
seconds apart into zerozero visibility. When it
was my turn, I lined up
on the runway center,
at least what I thought
was the center, set my
gyrocompass to zero,
and hit full throttle.
The B-25 bucked and
jerked as I fought to
maintain r unway
heading, hoping and
praying the guy in
front of me got off okay.
“As forward speed increased and
the controls felt lighter, I lifted her
off at 145 mph and pulled back on the
yoke. We broke out at 100 feet AGL,
and it was absolutely clear. I formed
up with the rest of my squadron and
headed off into the unknown. As we
drew closer to our objective, a small
comforting sight was observed. P-38
Lightnings were our close-cover escort at 5,000 feet, and P-47 Thunderbolts were high cover at 12,000 feet.
But there was still an unpleasant apprehension stirring in my mind: Will
I make it through this? No time to
worry about what-ifs, as we began
The Sandblasters.
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our descent to 50 feet over the wave
tops. Other bombers and fighters
split apart and headed to their predetermined targets. Our target was
Vunakanau Airfield, packed full of
Japanese fighters and bombers and
enough AA gun placements to ‘turn a
good day bad.’
“As our flight of 12 B-25s began to
spread out, wingtip to wingtip, power
was increased from 2000 rpm to 2400
rpm, and manifold pressure went from
22 inches to 38 inches of power. What
an awesome sight it must have been
standing on the ground, watching this
flock of falcon-nosed B-25s roaring
overhead, indicating 240 mph at treetop height! As Vunakanau Airfield began to come into view, our bomb bay
doors swung open as we began to receive a flashing green light from the
Japanese control tower! They say war
is crazy, but this was the most unbelievable thing I had ever seen! This
poor, half-asleep soldier was giving 12
26 OCTOBER 2012
heavily armed American B-25s permission to land! It all changed with the
push of a button.
“Ninety-six .50-cal machine guns
erupted in unison from the noses of
our B-25s, and theoretically, with that
amount of firepower in our noses, the
recoil alone should have stopped us in
midair! There was no need to use the
damn gunsight; anything that was in
front of you would be suppressed and
shattered, including the now-silenced
green light from the control tower. Enemy fighters and bombers occupied
the revetments as another punch of
a button released our ordnance. Parafrags began to fall and decelerate as
billowing white parachutes blossomed
in the South Pacific breeze. There was
no detection of AA fire, and many of
the gun pits were unoccupied.
“ The Japanese had been caught
with their kimonos wide open as
bombs began to find their mark, exploding the Japanese aircraft into
fireballs throughout the field. I observed a Zero with its engine idling
at the end of the runway, the pilot
obviously unaware or unable to react
sitting in the cockpit. I punched the
bomb release as I screamed overhead,
releasing more para-frags. In the distance, through the smoke and haze
of burning aircraft, I observed enemy
aircraft in the landing pattern, as if
this was just another training day
doing touch and goes. It was exciting and chaotic, and for the Japanese,
horrendous at best. We departed Vunakanau the same way we came in:
low and fast, as another wave of B-25s
behind us began their gun/bomb run
in on target, devastating everything
in sight throughout Rabaul and the
outlying airfields.
“It was such a well-orchestrated
mission that it seemed nothing could
go wrong. With over 100 Japanese aircraft demolished on the ground and
not a single loss to our squadron,
the 345th proved how effective and
powerful our new tactics were. Unfortunately, though, the Japanese developed new tactics of their own to
deal with ‘American gangsters’ and
their falcon-nosed bombers!
Near Miss
“More and more missions were
f lown against Japanese shipping
and airfields, as briefings and intelligence reports preceded each mission.
I started to notice that my coffee mug
was holding less liquid than when I
first started flying combat. During this
time, either no one did the math or it
was just taboo to talk about it. Fearing a self-imposed jinx on one’s self
or crew, the demoralizing fact was
that our casualty rate was over 70 percent, and the life expectancy of a B-25
strafer crew was four months in combat. Probably a good thing not to know
at the time! The number one culprit
for all our losses was antiaircraft fire.
When we first began to use low-level
runs on targets, both the Japanese
AA gunners would shoot at the closest
plane to them. Without compensating
for low-level and forward speed, most
of the shells missed us—that was until
they figured us out.
“As we came in on target, six to 12
B-25s abreast, the AA gunners now
shot at the farthest plane away from
them as their counterparts on the
other side of the field did the same.
This crossfire caused a brick wall of
deadly flak and automatic small-arms
fire from the ground. If you were hit
bad enough or lost an engine at these
low altitudes, it was almost guaranteed you would not be coming home.
These were just some of the nagging
thoughts that rattled around one’s
head as we flew more missions.
“Wewak, New Guinea, in December of 1943, was not a pleasant place
to visit. Flak was everywhere, and so
were Japanese fighters and bombers.
Wewak also contained merchant ships
anchored offshore; all you had to do
was to make it through the flak to get
to them. On December 22, 1943, flak
bursts erupted adjacent and around
my B-25 named Near Miss, adorned
with a naked girl painted just below
our cockpit. I had no intentions of
harming my ‘girl’ as I flew through the
barrage of heavy flak. I flew along with
two other Mitchells as we made our
high-speed pass, bombing antiaircraft
installations. As we came off target,
I noticed a ship in the harbor, 1,900
tons of enemy opportunity, and I
called my flight leader on the radio and
informed him of my desire. I still carried three delayed-action fuse bombs
in my belly, and after getting the okay
from the boss, I nosed Near Miss over
and began to hose the side of the merchant ship with my eight .50 cals.
“No one on the deck stood and returned fire as I closed the distance. I
punched the bomb release button and
screamed overhead, as splashes in the
water were seen to bracket the ship.
The heavy bombs skipped to their target, and underwater explosions soon
followed as the thinly armed hull
caved in from the concussion, sending
the ship and its supplies to an everlasting watery grave. As I formed back
up with the other two B-25s for the
ride home, I noticed a Jap Zero coming down on us from 10 o’clock. I had
been flying right wing when I pulled
up and out of formation, bringing my
eight-pack of guns to bear on the Zero.
Fortunately for him, he must have
seen the damage caused by my strafing
B-25 as he rolled and ducked out of the
area; I never had a chance to fire as he
vanished from our sight.
“After flying 25 missions as copilot and 23 missions as pilot, my coffee
mug was deemed empty by Capt. Blumenthal. I had spent 10-1/2 months in
combat, strafing and bombing targets
throughout the South Pacific, and yet
not one drop of my crew’s blood was
spilled in any of the aircraft I flew in.
It was 10 percent skill and 90 percent
luck. I returned home to the States
and began training new strafer pilots
in aggressive tactics learned during my
combat tour. Later I was offered an opportunity to fly A-26 Invaders leading B-29s on night raids into Tokyo.
But my handler (wife) had this ‘dog’
on a short leash and had other plans
for me. My wife had received a letter
from Gen. George Kenney informing
her that I was awarded the DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross) for sinking
that ship in Wewak, New Guinea, and
I believe that she thought DFC meant
‘Doesn’t Fly Combat Anymore!’”
The legend of the strafers lives on
through photos and surviving crews,
and some 60 years later, the ship that
“Jack” Bronson’s crew sunk was voted
one of the hottest scuba dive sights in
the world!
Maj. Paul I. “Pappy” Gunn
An inventive fellow by the name of
Paul “Pappy” Gunn had narrowly
escaped the Japanese takeover of
the Philippines. Pappy was a former
maintenance chief of a small airline
in the Philippines and didn’t care
much for the new occupants that
had forcibly taken over. Pappy was
appointed to the rank of major and
stationed with 5th Air Force Command in Australia. As payback to the
Japanese, Pappy came up with an
ingenious plan for the B-25 bomber.
By el im ina ting th e b om ba rdier station in the front glass nose,
Pappy fashioned four forward-firing,
fixed-position .50-cal machine guns
through the Plexiglas nose. As if that
wasn’t enough, Gunn also installed
two .50-cal machine gun blister
packs to the side of the B-25 just below the pilot and copilot. With eight
forward-firing machine guns at their
disposal, the role of the medium-altitude bomber was now cast aside as
the crews of these new killing machines became known as strafers. The
eight machine guns were set to converge at 250 yards, and when fired
they could cut a 3-foot-diameter tree
down in less than three seconds!
Not to be outdone, Pappy also
modified the interior of the bomb bay
to accommodate the use of para-frag
cluster bombs, and in doing so, came
up with the ultimate low-level delivery system. Flying low and fast, the
B-25 strafers cut apart Japanese shipping and ground targets like a chainsaw ripping through balsa wood.
Pappy Gunn was not a man to be
reckoned with!
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