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Operation: Buna Beachhead, Papua New Guinea
Date: July 22, 1942
Unit: No. 32 Squadron RAAF
Type: Lockheed Hudson Mk IIIA, A16-201
Serial: FH178
Code: ?
Base: Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea
Location: Popoga village, Papua New Guinea
Pilot: P/O Warren Frank Cowan 407614 RAAF Age 31 Killed (1)
Second Pilot/Nav: Sgt Russell Bradburn Polack 411183 RAAF Age 24 Killed (2)
WOP/Air/Gnr: P/O David Reid Taylor 408206 RAAF Age 33 Killed (3)
Air/Gnr: Sgt Lauri Edwin Sheard 416369 RAAF Age 22 Killed (4)
INTRODUCTION:
In the summer of 1942 the war was not progressing well for the Allies in either theatre. In Europe, Nazi Germany had invaded and controlled all countries along with Scandinavia and North Africa— the exceptions being neutral: Spain, Switzerland and Sweden. In the Pacific the Japanese Imperial Army and Navy were leapfrogging west and southward towards Hawaii and Australia. The only faint hope for a future change in the tides of war was Adolph Hitler’s major strategic blunder, invading Russia with Operation Barbarossa on July 22, 1941—before tidying up the loose ends of England, Gibraltar and Malta, thorns in his side. Occurring five months before Japan attacked Pearl Harbour, this would prove to be a fatal judgment error as it ultimately brought the United States into the fray.
On the island of Papua New Guinea in the Philippine Sea, the Royal Australian Air Force and United States Army Air Force were desperately striving to prevent Japanese forces from invading Australia. By mid-July 1942 the scene was set for the events that follow. The Japanese had an established a formidable base at Rabaul on New Britain Island, with a deep water port and an airfield with a plethora of fighters and bombers, located 500 statute miles northwest of Port Moresby. In addition they had a primitive, but functional airstrip on the east coast of Papua New Guinea at Lae, a mere 250 miles north of Port Moresby.
Above: Maps of Crash Site.
On July 21/22, 1942, the Japanese high command initiated a strategic assault on Papua New Guinea at Buna beach, with the intent of establishing a beachhead, landing a division of soldiers tasked with hacking a trail through thick rainforest jungle and treacherous, mountainous terrain—100 miles to Port Moresby. The objective was to capture Port Moresby with its adjacent airfield to provide air cover for the next step—invasion of the Australian mainland in the state of Queensland.
On July 22nd, at 11:30 hours, P/O Warren Cowan and crew departed 7 Mile Drome in the vicinity of Port Moresby, detailed to shadow a cruiser force north of Buna. Over the target area they were unable to locate any enemy shipping. At 13:30 the last radio transmission was received from Lockheed Hudson FH178. No sighting or distress call was received after this. When P/O Cowan and his crew failed to return to Base they were officially declared Missing In Action (MIA).
REASON FOR LOSS/THE CHOP
At 14:00 hours FPO1 Saburo Sakai and five squadron mates from Tainan Kōkūtai (Tainan Air Group) took off from Lae airstrip. They were equipped with the renowned A6M2 Zero and included some of the most combat experienced pilots in the Japanese Navy.
At 14:45 this formation arrived over the Buna beach head. What happened next is described by FPO1 Sakai in his detailed combat report:
Buna was a shock to me on my first patrol. I had seen many landing operations before from the air, but never had I witnessed such a pathetic attempt to supply a full infantry division. Soldiers milled around on the beach, carrying cases of supplies into the jungle by hand. Only two small transports with a single small sub chaser as their escort stood off the beach unloading new supplies!
Flying cover for the beachhead proved eventually more difficult than anticipated. No longer did heavy cloud layers mean a day of comparative rest. On July 22, in a group of six Zeros, we flew wide circles in what appeared to be an otherwise empty sky. A thick overcast hung at 7,000 feet above the ground. Without warning a series of tremendous explosions rocked the beach area, and columns of flame and smoke erupted into the sky. Seconds later thick, greasy smoke boiled out of the critical supply dumps several hundred yards off the shore. No other planes could be seen. Either they had dropped their bombs through the overcast with spectacular accuracy—which seemed highly unreasonable—or one or more planes had dropped below the clouds, released their bombs, and slipped back into the protection of the gray mass without being seen. The latter proved to be the case, for several minutes later I caught sight of a tiny speck moving out of the edge of the overcast, far to the southeast. We turned and pursued the fleeing plane which, as we drew closer, was identified as our old friend, the twin-engined Lockheed Hudson. We were about a mile away when we were sighted. The bomber nosed down and fled along the coast, trying to make Rabi. Its speed was high, almost as great as that of our own fighters. I jettisoned the fuel tank and pushed the throttle to maximum over-boost.
Above: Lockheed Hudson. Royal Australian Air Force's Temora Historic Flight. Courtesy airforce.gov.au.
From a distance of 600 yards and to the rear left, I fired a burst from all four guns at the plane, hoping the Hudson would turn and allow me to lessen the distance between our two planes. What happened next was startling. No sooner had I fired than the Hudson went into a steep climbing turn to the right, rolled quickly, and roared back with full speed directly at me. I was so surprised that for several moments I sat motionless in the cockpit. The next second every forward-firing gun in the Hudson opened up with a withering barrage.
Our Zeros scattered wildly, rolling or diving in different directions. Nothing like this had ever happened before! I caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Sasai; his jaw hung open in astonishment at the audacity of the enemy pilot. One Zero—piloted by Nishizawa, who refused to be impressed by anything—rolled out of his sudden breakaway and came down behind the bomber, his guns spitting flame. Again we were astounded. The Hudson heeled over in a snap roll, the fastest I had ever seen for a twin-engined plane. Nishizawa’s guns sprayed only empty air.
The remaining pilots, myself included, hurled our planes at the Hudson. All of us failed to score a single hit. The bomber rolled and sawed up and down in violent maneuvers, with the top gunner firing steadily at our planes.
The Zero pilots went wild with fury. Our formation disintegrated and every man went at the Hudson with everything he had. I made at least four firing passes, and was forced to break off my attack by other pilots who screamed in without regard for their wing mates. For nearly ten minutes we pursued the Hudson, pouring a hail of lead and explosive shells at the amazing plane. Finally a heavy burst caught the rear turret; I saw the gunner throw his hands up and collapse. Without the interfering stream of bullets from the turret, I closed in to twenty yards and held the gun trigger down, aiming for the right wing. Seconds later flame streamed out, then spread to the left wing. The pilot stayed with the ship; it was too low for him or the crew to bail out. The Hudson lost speed rapidly and glided in toward the jungle. Trees sheared off the two flaming wings and the fuselage, also trailing great sheets of flame, burst into the dense growth like a giant sliver of burning steel. There was a sudden explosion, and smoke boiled upward…
Above L-R: P/O Warren Cowan, Sgt Russell Bradburn Polack and Sgt Lauri Edwin Sheard. Courtesy of National Archives of Australia
THE AFTERMATH:
It was not until 1943 the initial clue was discovered that ultimately led to the discovery and identification of the crash site and crew of Hudson FH178. That year following the recapture of the Buna-Dobodura area by the Allies, local natives reported a crashed American aircraft and personnel. A U.S. team recovered the remains of the four man crew. In the process they were advised of a second aircraft that had crashed further inland, near Popoga village.
A second party was deployed and found this aircraft to be “terribly smashed”. In a newspaper article war correspondent, Dennis Warner, described the scene as “Bits of the fuselage and unrecognizable pieces of the engine were scattered for hundreds of feet throughout the thick jungle”. The crew’s remains were recovered and buried at Dobodura in an American cemetery by the sea—marked by four small white crosses inscribed by the notation “Killed in action, unknown”, for more than two years.
In early 1945 Washington authorities after scrutiny of their records for missing airmen, concluded the four unknown airmen buried in Dobodura were not Americans. A third investigation team was sent for a more thorough search of this mystery aircraft, arriving at the crash site on March 1st.
They found that in the interim there had been considerable regrowth and much of the debris was covered by mould, leaves and new growth. For several days the members cleared vegetation in search of any clue to the aircraft’s identity. Exhausted, wet and starving, they were about to give up when one of them found the battered, unmistakable sign of the RAAF—a blue and white roundel.
The next day a heavy tropical downpour, a natural miracle, exposed the clues that had eluded them. Under a pile of rotting leaves they found an engine manufacturer’s plate, clearly bearing the markings—“Wright Cyclone GR 1820-205A Engine 59466”. Air Force records confirmed that this radial engine had been installed on Hudson A16-201 (FH178). The mystery of the four airmen laying at rest in the Dobodura cemetery were P/O Warren Frank Cowan and his crew. Postwar they were then reinterred at the Bomana War Cemetery, Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, close to the location their fateful flight had departed.
However, this is not the end of the saga of P/O Cowan and his crew. In recent years three military-aviation historians—David Vincent, of Adelaide, Henry Sakaida and Bob Piper in the U.S.—independently came to the same conclusion after studying Saburo Sakai’s exploits against Allied air forces in the New Guinea war theatre.
Their research revealed that only one Lockheed Hudson had been shot down in the vicinity and it was that from No.32 Squadron captained by P/O Cowan. On comparing notes this close knit group of researchers were confident they had solved a long standing World War II mystery.
In 1998, when he learned of the details, Saburo Sakai lodged a signed statement of the events, hoping that Cowan and his crew would finally be recognized for their bravery:
I recommend that Pilot Officer Warren F. Cowan be posthumously awarded your country’s highest commendation. I have encountered many brave pilots in my life but Warren F. Cowan stands alone.
Unfortunately, this was not to be as it was contrary to Australian military policy, in fear it would open the way to many others.
CREW’S BIOGRAPHICAL DETAILS:
He married Betty Crawford Worthley on 5 October 1940, at North Adelaide, South Australia. Son, Blair Anthony Cowan and daughter, Libby. They lived at 184 Batton Terrace, North Adelaide.
Prior to enlisting Warren Cowan was employed by Elder Smith and Co., as a Clerk (Wool Classing).
Enlisted at 5 Recruiting Centre Adelaide on 7 December 1940, he was described as being 5'11½" tall, weighing 157 lbs., with fair complexion, blue eyes and fair hair.
After training at 1 Initial Training School at RAAF Somers, Victoria, 1 Elementary Flying Training School at RAAF Parafield, South Australia and 1 Service Flying Training School at RAAF Point Cook, Victoria, he was awarded his Flying Badge on 25 July 1941 and promoted to Sergeant.
He was posted to 2 Squadron at RAAF Darwin, Northern Territories, on 4 August 1941, for General Duties and on 6 October, to General Reconnaissance School at RAAF Laverton, Victoria, for a Navigation Course until 19 December 1941.
On 19 December he was posted to 6 Squadron at RAAF Richmond (or RAAF Laverton, Victoria), for Flying Duties. Attached to 2 Training Group Flying Duties 19 December 1941 - 5 January, 1942.
On 28 January 1942 he was commissioned as a Pilot Officer.
He was posted to 7 Squadron RAAF Laverton, Victoria, on 2 February 1942, on a Conversion Course and on 22 April, he was again posted to 2 Sqn at RAAF Darwin, Northern Territories, this time for Flying Duties attached to 1 Aircraft Depot Ferrying.
On 9 May, he was posted to 32 Squadron at Port Morseby, Papua New Guinea. Due to enemy raids on Port Moresby's Seven Mile airfield, the Squadron was withdrawn to Horn Island, Queensland, on 22 May 1942.
2. Sgt Russell Bradburn Polack:
Sgt. Russell Bradburn Polack was born on 2 March, 1918, at Emlyn Private Hospital, Summer Hill, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, the son of Russell William Polack and Ethel Polack (née Bradburn). He had one sibling: Norma Marian Polack (1920-1999). The family lived at 4 Coney Road, Earlwood, Sydney.
Russell attended the private Trinity Grammar School (1929-1933) and after leaving school became an Accountant and Audit Clerk. His sporting interests were tennis, swimming and golf.
When he enlisted at Sydney on 26 April, 1941, he was described as being 5'7½" tall, weighing 145 lbs., with a fair complexion, blue eyes and medium hair.
After training at 2 Initial Training School at RAAF Bradfield Park, New South Wales, and 5 Elementary Flying Training School at RAAF Narromine, New South Wales, and 2 Service Flying Training School at RAAF Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, he was awarded his Flying Badge on 11 December, 1942, and promoted to Sergeant.
Posted to General Reconnaissance School at RAAF Laverton, Victoria, for a Navigation Course from 22 December, 1941, until 13 February, 1942, he was then posted to 1 Operational Training Unit at RAAF Sale, Victoria, on 16 February, 1942.
On 16 March, 1942, he was posted to 7 Squadron at RAAF Laverton, Victoria. On 9 May he was posted to 32 Squadron at Port Morseby, Papua New Guinea. Due to enemy raids on Port Moresby's Seven Mile airfield, the squadron was withdrawn to Horn Island, Queensland on 22 May, 1942.
3. P/O David Reid Taylor: P/O David Reid Taylor was born on 2 July, 1909, at Prahran, Stonnington City, Victoria, Australia, the son of John Reid Taylor and Charlotte Catherine Taylor (née Reid). He had 4 siblings: Charles Reid Taylor (1891-1959), Alice Reid Taylor (1902-1963), John Reid Taylor (1904-2001) and Christina Reid Taylor (1907-1989).
On 9 October, 1933, he married Sylvia Harper later Fotheringham. They lived at 7 Woodlands Ave., East Kew, Victoria, and later at 11 Doncaster Road Nth Balwyn, Victoria. They had a daughter Margaret Reid Taylor born 11 February, 1934, and a son, Andrew Reid Taylor born 3 May, 1936.
David Reid Taylor was employed as a Salesman for Caltex Ltd Melbourne for 3½years and J J Raybould Service for 2 yrs.
When he enlisted at Devonport, Tasmania on 25 April, 1941, he was 5'11" tall, weighing 170 lbs., with medium complexion, blue-grey eyes and medium dark hair.
After training at 1 Initial Training School at RAAF Somers, Victoria, 1 Wireless and Gunnery School at RAAF Ballarat, Victoria, and 2 Bombing and Gunnery School at RAAF Port Pirie, South Australia he was awarded his Air Gunner Badge and promoted to Sergeant on 1 March, 1942, and Commissioned as a Pilot Officer on 9 March, 1942, Gazetted 26 March 1942.
He was posted to 7 Squadron at RAAF Laverton, Victoria, on 9 March 1942 and on 22 April 1942 to 2 Squadron at RAAF Darwin, Northern Territories. On 9 May he was posted to 32 Squadron at Port Morseby, Papua New Guinea. Due to enemy raids on Port Moresby's Seven Mile airfield, the squadron was withdrawn to Horn Island, Queensland on 22 May, 1942.
4. Sgt Lauri Edwin Sheard:
Sgt Lauri Edwin Sheard was born on 9 March, 1922, at Gawler, South Australia, the son of Harold Llewellyn Sheard and Rose Hilda Shear (née Lowcay). He had one sibling: Betty Margaret Sheard (1917-2000). The family lived at Nuriootpa, a town in South Australia, about an hour's drive north of the state capital, Adelaide.
Lauri attended Nuriootpa High School from 1934 to 1938 and after leaving school was employed as a Store Assistant.
When he enlisted at Adelaide on 24 May, 1941, he was described as being 5'6" tall, weighing 131 lbs., with olive complexion, dark brown eyes and black hair.
After training at 1 Initial Training School at RAAF Somers, Victoria, and 1 Wireless and Gunnery School at RAAF Ballarat, Victoria, he was awarded his Air Gunner Badge and promoted to Sergeant on 1 March, 1942. He was posted to 7 Squadron at RAAF Laverton, Victoria, and on 22 April to 2 Squadron at RAAF Darwin, Northern Territories. On 9 May he was posted to 32 Squadron at Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea. Due to enemy raids on Port Moresby's Seven Mile airfield, the Squadron was withdrawn to Horn Island, Queensland on 22 May, 1942.
We are interested in additional information on the crew members and confirmation of the photo IDs, via the Help Desk.
We are grateful for Roy Wilcock’s diligent research for bio details and improved photos.
BURIAL DETAILS:
Burial Soputa War Cemetery Grave T.a.14-15-16
Reburial Soputa War Cemetery Grave 8.B.7.8.9.10
Further reburial 24 November 1946 Bomana War Cemetery B.7.E. 21-24 (Photo above)
(Sect B Plot 7 Row Coll Graves 21-24)
Greater love hath no man
2. P/O David Reid Taylor is buried in the Port Moresby (Bomana) War Cemetery, Papua New Guinea. Coll. grave B7.E. 21-24, son of John Reid and Charlotte Catherine Taylor; husband of Sylvia Taylor, of East Kew, Victoria. His epitaph reads:
Pro patriae
3. Sgt Russell Bradburn Polack is buried in the Port Moresby (Bomana) War Cemetery, Papua New Guinea, Coll. grave B7.E. 21-24, son of Russell Willam and Ethel Polack, of Earlwood, New South Wales. His epitaph reads:
BELOVED ONLY SON
OF MR. & MRS. R.W. POLACK
OF EARLWOOD, SIDNEY, N.S.W.
4. Sgt Lauri Edwin Sheard is buried in the Port Moresby (Bomana) War Cemetery, Papua New Guinea, Coll. grave B7.E 21-24, son of Harold Llewellyn and Rose Hilda Sheard, of Port Elliot, South Australia.
His epitaph reads:
ONLY SON
OF ROSE AND HAROLD SHEARD
OF PORT ELLIOT, SOUTH AUSTRALIA
DECORATION SUGGESTIONS:
As far as we know it is unprecedented for an enemy combatant to approach a government with irrefutable evidence and recommend an airman for the highest award for valour—fifty-five years after the described events. It is most disappointing the Australian government lacked the foresight to comprehend the significance of this crew’s sacrifice of their lives in defence of their families and homeland.
To the best of our knowledge no similar occurrence has been described. We are aware of the awarding of a posthumous Victoria Cross to a Canadian mid-upper gunner, P/O Andrew Mynarski, postwar following testimony by his surviving crew mates.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Mynarski
Summary to follow below.
In Bomber Command it was common for the Skipper of a crew on tour expiring to be awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross. Many noted that without the support of a dedicated crew they would not have survived for this recognition. In other words, the DFC was earned by the entire crew. Symbolically, one Lanc Captain carefully scissored his DFC ribbon into equal pieces and mailed them to each member of his crew.
On the evening of February 14/15, 1943 Sgt Ivan Hazard and his crew were severely mauled by an Italian Fiat CR-42 night fighter over their target, Milano. The crew sustained multiple injuries and their Lanc I, ED377, was severely damaged by fire from one of their incendiaries hung up in the bomb bay. Despite this Sgt Hazard was able to nurse their aircraft back to England, making an emergency landing at RAF Tangmere. Air Chief Marshal Arthur ‘Bomber’ Harris awarded this crew an unprecedented and never repeated five Conspicuous Gallantry Medals and a DSO. In the confusion over the target the bomb aimer baled out to become a POW for the duration.
https://aircrewremembered.com/hazard-ivan-henry.ht...
Taking into account the above considerations, in the context of Saburo Sakai’s detailed combat report, the facts that P/O Cowan and his crew lost their lives, the target destroyed on this bombing mission, ensured the planned invasion of Port Moresby failed, we are making the following recommendations—in spite of the Australian government’s decision to ignore their actions:
Note: Chris Appleton, via Helpdesk, September 4, 2024, informed us two members of this crew had been awarded the Medal for Gallantry. A further search has found that all crew members have been awarded this decoration, posthumously, by the Australian government on October 25, 2023. We are in the process of confirming this information:
Government House
CANBERRA ACT 2600
25 October 2023
Gallantry Decorations
The Governor-General is pleased to announce the following Gallantry Decorations:
MEDAL FOR GALLANTRY (MG)
Pilot Officer Warran Frank COWAN
For acts of gallantry in action in hazardous circumstances on 22 July 1942 as the plane captain of Lockheed Hudson A16-201.
Sergeant Russell Bradburn POLACK
For acts of gallantry in action in hazardous circumstances on 22 July 1942 as the plane navigator of Lockheed Hudson A16-201.
Sergeant Laurie Edwin SHEARD
For acts of gallantry in action in hazardous circumstances on 22 July 1942 as the aircraft gunner of Lockheed Hudson A16-201.
Pilot Officer David Reid TAYLOR
For acts of gallantry in action in hazardous circumstances on 22 July 1942 as the plane wireless operator of Lockheed Hudson A16-201.
In addition we are requesting explanation for the prolonged delay in recognizing their action, and the rational for not awarding the first rank decoration for their extremely heroic, impactful actions.
Details below.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
I am grateful to my brother Ken for gifting me with a dogeared, battle worn copy of Saburo Sakai’s SAMURAI !. Five years later I finally got around to reading it and his combat report of the shooting down of P/O Cowan and his crew became the catalyst for this archive report. Credit is due to David Vincent, Henry Sakaida and Bob Piper for their perseverance in identifying for certain this crew was the victim of this remarkable encounter.
SAMURAI ! is a fascinating, educational read providing insight into the training and combat experiences of a Japanese Navy pilot who managed to survive the war, with a total of sixty-four victories.
As a young recruit he experienced the strict selection process and rigorous training standards that were almost superhuman. In1937, at Navy Fliers School at Tsuchiura, candidate Sakai was one of seventy out of more than 1,500 hopefuls selected for pilot training. Before the ten month course concluded 45 students would be expelled.
And for Saburo Sakai this rigid training reaped just rewards: I know that during my 200 air engagements with enemy planes, except for two minor errors I was never caught in a surprise attack by enemy fighters, nor did I ever lose any of my wingmen to hostile pilots.
It is noteworthy that only after the latter half of July 1942 was it mandatory for Japanese fighter pilots to wear a parachute when flying into combat. It was not surprising the high command would be concerned of preventable pilot losses, with escalation of the war in the Pacific and their limited resources to replace them.
On August 8th, the Japanese Imperial Command was forced to pivot their focus from the Port Moresby region to the Solomon Island of Guadalcanal, threatened with a massive assault by a U.S. Navy carrier force.
Commander Nakajima opened his pre-raid briefing with the following statement: You are going to fly the longest fighter operation in history. And he was not exaggerating. The distance one way from Rabaul to Guadalcanal was a chilling five hundred and sixty miles one way, round-trip 1,100 miles. Eighteen Zero fighter pilots were detailed to escort twenty-six Betty bombers to destination and provide air cover for their return journey. Many of these crews would never return and for Subaro Sakai it would prove to be a trip that would significantly impact his combat career and future.
Over the target he was bounced by a Dauntless dive bomber without significant damage. However, shortly after he experienced his first and last encounter with a flight of eight single-engine aircraft he assumed to be fighters. At close range, without a chance to take evasive action, he realized they were Grumman TBF avengers, each equipped with a dorsal and ventral turret, armed with a single 50 calibre gun. Simultaneously, both sides pulled the triggers. As the range closed to twenty yards, Sakai observed two of the bombers spurt flames.
As Sakai documents: That was all I saw. A violent explosion smashed at my body. I felt as though knives had been thrust savagely into my ears; the world burst into flaming red and I went blind.
His three wingmen followed his Zero down as it dove out of control with an unconscious pilot, until it disappeared into a low overcast.
He managed to regain consciousness and control of his aircraft at low altitude, only to realize the left side of his body was paralyzed and he was blind in his right eye.
With an incredible will to live he was able to nurse himself and his aircraft back to his home base at Rabaul and successfully land, on his fourth attempt—culminating a 4 hour 47 minute gruelling ride! After being lifted from his cockpit, he refused medical care, until he had filed a report with his Commander. Only then did he submit to the surgeon’s scalpel for debridement and repair of his significant head wound and shrapnel injuries.
Above: Saburo Sakai following the Guadalcanal raid. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
He slowly began to regain function of his left side but remained blind in the right eye. Despite his protestations he was transferred by flying boat, on August 12th, to the Yokosuka Naval Hospital in Tokyo for ophthalmological assessment. Within days Sakai was assessed by the nation’s top eye surgeon, Dr. Sakano, who recommended immediate surgical intervention, without anaesthesia!
For more than thirty minutes, with his head restraint by straps he endured this ‘torture’ as Dr. Sakano removed shrapnel from his right eye. Following a month of bed rest, post op evaluation revealed that the eye would never fully recover, his vision in that eye was restricted to one to two feet in front of him. His left eye was perfectly normal.
Sakai was ordered to have at least six months of convalescence before being assigned to any form of duty. As a monocular pilot his career as a fighter pilot was over.
In October he was transferred to Sasebo Naval Hospital and in November promoted to ther rank of Warrant Officer, permitting him to recover at home.
In the last week of January 1943 he was discharged from hospital and posted to the Tainan Fighter Wing, reassessed as a flight instructor at Omura Air Base— a tough pill to swallow for a seasoned fighter pilot.
After long and exhausting months of pilot training Sakai was posted to Yokosuka Air Wing in April 1944. By this time it was apparent war was coming to Japan. On June 15th twenty B29 Super Fortresses attacked a city in Northern Kyushu.
The American invasion of Saipan resulted in the Yokosuka Wing being transferred to the island of Iwo Jima. His previous Commander Nakajima invited Sakai to join him again: You see Subaro, I need you with me. Desperately. You are almost a god to these men. With you flying with us their morale will soar. They will follow you anywhere.
The decimated Wing could only muster thirty obsolete Zeros to add to the defence of the island. Finally on their fifth attempt on June 20th, they were able to penetrate severe weather conditions to reach Iwo Jima, 650 miles south of Yokosuka.
On June 24th, after almost a two year hiatus from combat, Sakai would have his mettle tested to the max. At 5:20 A.M. more than eighty Zeros scrambled from two runways to intercept a large force of enemy aircraft approaching rapidly, less than sixty miles south of Iwo.
Sakai had not lost his edge, in short order dispatching two Hellcats. However, he would almost pay dearly for his visual handicap and zest to return to combat. In the process of joining up with a formation of fifteen ‘Zero’s’, it was not until he was much closer before realizing they were actually Hellcats!
An epic, lopsided dogfight ensued, starting at 13,000 feet AGL and unwinding at sea level without a loss on either side. Sakai managed to maneuver over Iwo Jima and was saved by friendly flak. Eight gut wrenching pages later he managed to land at his home Base, the whole affair witnessed by his colleagues and ground crew: A mechanic ran up to me, saluting, “Sir! Your plane. It—it doesn’t…I can’t believe it…there’s not a single bullet hole in your fighter!”
However, the losses from this single sortie were prohibitive with almost half of their fighters shot down.
On July 4th, American Independence Day, nine pilots were detailed to attack the enemy fleet from Iwo Jima with the following orders:
Captain Miura drew himself up straight, “you must dive against the enemy carriers together! Dive—along with your torpedos and your lives and your souls…”
This was the first time a Japanese pilot was ordered to make a suicide attack, four months before the celebrated Kamikaze Special Attack Corps was organized in the Philippines by Vice-Admiral Takijiro Onishi.
Sakai was selected to lead the second V of nine aircraft:
I was in turmoil. I had a cold sinking feeling of revulsion in my brain. I was neither furious nor desperate. My heart and my emotions might perhaps be called frozen. The ancient words returned to me. “A Samurai lives in such a way that he will always be prepared to die.”
The Samurai code, however, never demanded that a man be constantly prepared to kill himself…
It was to be remembered, however, that we were still in the Navy, where orders are orders.
After an emotional farewell, nine Zeros and eight bombers took off in search of the enemy carrier fleet to encounter overwhelming formations of Hellcats that dispatched seven of the bombers in a matter of minutes. With approaching darkness and a massive storm cloaking the carrier fleet, Sakai and his two wingmen were forced to return to Iwo, their task incomplete but their lives spared.
With the impending invasion of Iwo Jima orders were received from Yokosuka command to recall all staff officers and pilots via courier aircraft to Japan. Following runway repairs, seven obsolete, twin-engined bombers serving as courier aircraft, arrived at low level to evacuate the officers to Japan. Next day a ‘flying wreck’ staggered onto the runway to retrieve eleven NCOs and enlisted men. The first takeoff was aborted due to impending failure of one of the engines. Two hours later the mechanics deemed it airworthy. Ten minutes into the second attempt the right engine began to vibrate violently, threatening to separate from its mounts. Sakai advised the junior crew to return to Iwo for additional repairs. With a new set of spark plugs they were finally airborne for the 650 mile leg to Japan.
However, their troubles were far from over. An hour and a half into the flight and they were in the middle of a violent rainstorm. Wisely, Sakai advised the crew to scud run and not attempt to climb above the cumulonimbus clouds— almost certain disaster. It was not surprising that in conditions of near zero visibility and violent turbulence the pilot ‘bleated plaintively’, “Sir, where are we now?”
Sakai really had no choice as an experienced single-engine fighter pilot, without multi-engine time. For several seconds he was speechless before he shouted, “Get out of that seat! I’m taking over!”
For the next ninety minutes he dead reckoned, flying blind, in horrific conditions of wind and rain. There were cries of jubilation from the crew and passengers when the familiar peninsulas south of Tokyo Bay materialized on the horizon.
We do not know who carried out the landing at Kisarazu Bomber Base across from Yokosuka but can be quite certain if not for the actions of Sakai there would have been no survivors from this flight.
One month after his return to Yokosuka he was promoted to the rank of ensign. After eleven years he had attained the status of a regular officer—an all-time record for the Japanese Navy!
Sakai was reassigned to the Yokosuka Air Wing as a test pilot for new fighters, including the Shiden (Lightning, US code name George) and Raiden (Thunderbolt, US code name Jack).
On the eve of Japan’s Foundation Day, February 11, 1945, Sakai wed his cousin, Hatsuyo Hirokawa. A honeymoon was out of the question. However, the following Sunday fifty of the wing’s pilots fêted this emotional occasion.
In March, 1945, the Japanese Navy for the first and only time made the exception from its rule of “no precedents”, and announced special citations to two of its fighter pilots, NAP 1/C Shoichi Sugita, an ace with 120 air kills as of January 20th, and Ensign Saburo Sakai. On April 17th, Sugita would lose his life in view of his squadron mates, in an inferno after he was bounced by an enemy fighter as he was taxiing for takeoff—leaving Sakai as the top surviving Japanese fighter pilot. At this point he was again denied permission to fly combat missions.
However, the end was in sight. On August 6th USAAF dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, followed by a second, three days later on Nagasaki.
On the evening of August 13th, blatantly disobeying orders, Sakai and at least nine other Zero pilots scrambled to intercept what they believed to be B-29 Super Fortresses and claimed to have shot one down into the ocean. According to American sources this loss may not have occurred. It was not recorded in his pilot’s log book that included sixty-four air victories. His official confirmed score was twenty-eight.
Postwar Sakai was promoted to Sub-Lieutenant before retiring from the Japanese Navy.
His first wife, Hatsuyo, died in 1947 due to poverty and illness. In 1952 he remarried, Haru, and raised three children, two daughters and a son.
He had difficulty finding employment during the postwar years and made a living operating a printing company.
Saburo Sakai died suddenly on September 22, 2000, from an apparent cardiac event, after being the guest of honour at a formal dinner by the US Navy, at the Atsugi Naval Air Station in Japan, age 84.
Unsung heroes (www.hatfield-herts.co.uk/features/victcross1.html)
It is worth remembering that not everyone who deserved a nation's highest honour received it.
The reasons for this are many:
1. It may have been they weren't entitled to it at the time (posthumous awards only became possible after the Boer War, members of the Indian armed services only became entitled after 1911).
2. Their personal relationship with their senior officers was such that they weren't put forward for the award.
(https://aircrewremembered.com/manning-ralph-viril.html)
3.Their bravery did not meet the criteria of 'in the face of the enemy'. There are different types of courage: an instinctive act to aid wounded comrades after suddenly being ambushed, often is a spur of the moment decision with little time to consider the risks involved. Contrast that with the case of bomb disposal experts who make a lonely walk to a device that may well detonate at any second (even if it hasn’t deliberately been booby-trapped), do what needs to be done –then go on to the next device, day in and day out. The author would argue that it takes more courage to do the latter role than a selfless and heroic dash under fire while carrying an injured comrade – a more instinctive reaction.
4.There were no survivors to bear witness to what had happened.
5. A refusal by authorities to do extra paperwork.
There is a sixth reason for a serviceman being overlooked for valour in action: The military senior officials refused to recognize the valorous acts of individuals, with the expectation that all those serving were prepared to sacrifice their lives for their country. The Japanese High Command was the only one during the Second World War to adopt this policy and had no hierarchy of decorations to reward acts of heroism.
Saburo Sakai was a very unique individual and deserved recognition he did not receive for his service to his country and wing mates during and after the war. This became very apparent with reading his biography and researching this archive report.
By wars end he was the sole surviving airman symbolic of the determination and courage exemplified by many of his colleagues who failed to return. He was the only fighter pilot ace to survive the duration of the conflict. It is difficult to comprehend the devastation of the kamikaze edict resulting in the annihilation of the fighter and bomber crews. It is remarkable that Sakai survived such an attack months before this policy was introduced.
It is apparent Sakai was a humane and compassionate individual, unusual for the Japanese philosophy of take no prisoners and be prepared to die for your country.
On several occasions Sakai had the opportunity to demonstrate these qualities. During his epic Guadalcanal saga he found himself in a dogfight with a veteran Wildcat pilot, Lieutenant James "Pug" Southerland. At one point in the heat of battle they found themselves flying in formation, wingtip to wingtip, face to face and Sakai observed that Southerland had sustained a significant shoulder injury, and deduced his guns had jammed…
“I had never felt so strange before. I had killed many Americans in the air, but this was the first time a man had weakened in such a fashion directly before my eyes, and from wounds I had inflicted upon him…Wounded or not he was an enemy…However, there was no reason to aim for the pilot again. I wanted the airplane, not the man.
I dropped back and came in again on his tail. Somehow the American called upon a reserve of strength and the Wildcat jerked upward into a loop. That was it. His nose started up. I aimed carefully at the engine, and barley touched the cannon trigger. A burst of flame and smoke exploded outward from the engine. The Wildcat rolled and the pilot baled out…his parachute snapped open…The pilot…hung limply in his chute. The last I saw of him he was drifting in toward the beach."
In early 1942 Sakai was posted to Tarakan Island in Borneo and fought in the Dutch East Indies. While leading a patrol over Java he encountered a civilian DC-3 flying low level over the jungle, en route to Australia. While making a close pass he observed a blond woman and young child waving at him. He flew ahead to signal the pilot to continue on his way. Postwar he met the co-pilot at a social gathering who thanked him for saving his life, and those of his family. His wife and children were passengers on that fateful flight.
Following the war Sakai spent time in lobbying the Japanese government to apologize for their atrocities committed during the war—to no avail.
During his visits to the US he met and befriended many of his fighter pilot enemies.
As noted above he recommended the Australian government recognize the valour of P/O Warren Cowan and his crew for their remarkable, lopsided dogfight between their Lockheed Hudson and six Japanese Zeros piloted by some of the top aces. Again to no avail.
It is noteworthy G/C Leonard Cheshire was awarded the VC for his successful completion of four tours of duty with Bomber Command and survived the war. Postwar he had a distinguished philanthropical career and was dedicated to the health and welfare of bomber crew vets.
Saburo Sakai fits a similar mould but wore the wrong uniform, serving a master who did not award decorations. The ultimate sacrifice was expected as the duty of all servicemen.
On June 12, 1944, P/O Arthur de Breyne and his Canadian crew departed RAF Middleton St. George in Lancaster KB716, detailed for a bombing attack on the Cambrai railways. At midnight, as they were approaching the target on the bomb run they were attacked by a night fighter, sustaining damage to the port engines and central fuselage, with a hydraulic fire rapidly engulfing the aircraft. P/O de Breyne gave the order to bale out and the five up front did so successfully, after the unconscious bomb aimer was pushed out as his rip cord was pulled. In the aft of the aircraft mid-upper gunner, P/O Andrew Mynarski, observed his rear gunner partner, P/O Pat Brophy was trapped in his turret. P/O Mynarski was unable to free him with the fire ax and was signalled by his colleague to bale out and save his life. With his clothes and parachute on fire, he bid farewell to his doomed crew mate, before leaving through the rear escape door. P/O Mynarski survived the accelerated descent but sustained serious injuries and burns. His clothing was still on fire when he was located by French farmers and taken to a nearby German field hospital. Despite their best efforts he succumbed to his injuries.
Miraculously, Pat Brophy survived the ensuing crash and blast of their bomb load. After serving with the French resistance, it was not until 1945 he returned to London, learning the only member of the crew lost was P/O Mynarski. F/L de Breyne started a protracted campaign to have him recognized for valour in combat, and on October 11, 1946, he was awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross—the last to be awarded to a WWII serviceman.
With the war in the Pacific in its final days, a young Canadian officer was doing his best to ensure there would be no last minute rebellions.
Lieutenant Robert Hampton ‘Hammie’ Gray was detailed to lead a flight of F4U Corsairs to attack a group of Japanese escort vessels anchored in Onagawa Bay, Japan. On August 9, 1945, he sank the destroyer, Amakuja, before crashing into the bay. Posthumously, he was awarded the VC for his actions during this attack. The citation Gazetted on November 13, 1945, describes this event and the individual involved:
…for great valour in leading an attack on a Japanese destroyer…In the face of fire from shore batteries and a heavy concentration of fire from some five warships Lieutenant Gray pressed home his attack, flying very low to ensure success, and, although he was hit and his aircraft was in flames, he obtained at least one direct hit, sinking the destroyer. Lt. Gray had consistently shown a brilliant fighting spirit and most inspiring leadership.
He was one of the last Canadians to die in WW II, and the second to last Canadian to be awarded the VC. P/O Mynarski was the last.
It is noteworthy a memorial was erected for Lt Gray at Onagawa Bay in 1989 at Sakiyama Park—the only memorial dedicated to a foreign soldier on Japanese soil!
In the European theatre, there was an encounter, similar to Saburo Sakai’s, that occurred between enemy combatants.
Four days before Christmas 1943, a USAAF B-17 was struggling over Germany to return to its Base in England. Its pilot, 2nd Lt Charlie Brown found himself at the controls of a severely damaged aircraft, with half of his crew dead or wounded, when he was intercepted by Luftwaffe ace, 2nd Lt Franz Stigler. This encounter is chronicled by Adam Makos in his engrossing read, A Higher Call:
“A Higher Call follows both Charlie and Franz’s harrowing missions. Charlie would face takeoffs in English fog over the flaming wreckage of his buddies’ planes, flak bursts so close they would light his cockpit, and packs of enemy fighters that would circle his plane like sharks. Franz would face sandstorms in the desert, a crash alone at sea, and the spectacle of 1,000 bombers each with eleven guns, waiting for his attack. Ultimately, Charlie and Franz would stare across the frozen skies at one another. What happened between them, the American 8th Air Force would later classify as “top secret.” It was an act that Franz could never mention or else face a firing squad. It was the encounter that would haunt both Charlie and Franz for forty years until, as old men, they would search for one another, a last mission that could change their lives forever.”
Left: A Higher Call, cover. JEA Collection.
It epitomizes an act of chivalry in combat that has long standing implications for both pilots. Their encounter is aptly described as “the most incredible encounter between WWII enemies”. It is a fascinating read and in many ways parallels the experiences as those of Saburo Sakai—two esteemed Axis aces, the progressive crumbling of their once mighty air forces and subsequent suffering of the civilian population resulting from Allied bombing— culminating with the introduction of atomic weapons in Japan.
Postwar Franz Stigler immigrated to Canada finally settling down in Surrey, B.C. In the 1970s he was a regular standout, flying into the Abbotsford Air Show in his pristine
Me Bf 108 Taifun, C-GRIT.
Above: Me 108 Taifun, Abbottsford Air Show 1977. JEA Collection.
Right: Me 108 Taifun, cockpit. JEA Collection.
We are aware these recommendations for decorations are controversial but hope the examples provided give insight into the rationale for them, despite the actions or customs enacted by the Australian and Japanese governments. Before passing judgment on our recommendations, we suggest the reader experiences the combat careers of Sakai and Stigler, by reading Samurai! and A Higher Call. You will not be disappointed.
However, there is a seventh condition that prevented an individual from being awarded his nation’s highest award, in recognition for him doing more than any other single individual to save lives and shorten the war. This individual, as a noncombatant, used his mind to create a ‘weapon’ that did just that, but fell below the radar, and ultimately was disgraced by his government for his sexual orientation—in the end resorting to suicide by ingesting an apple laced with cyanide.
Alan Mathison Turing was a mathematician, computer scientist, logician, cryptanalyst, philosopher and theologic biologist—considered to be the father of theoretical computer science and artificial intelligence.
Left: Alan Turing, 1936. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
He graduated with a mathematics degree from King’s College, Cambridge and obtained his PhD from the Department of Mathematics at Princeton University.
During WWII he worked for Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park, Britain’s code-breaking centre that produced the Ultra intelligence, instrumental in decoding the German’s Enigma machine messages.
Alan Turing played a crucial role in cracking intercepted coded messages, enabling the Allies to defeat Axis powers in many pivotal engagements in the course of WWII.
In 1946 he was made an Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (OBE) for his code-breaking work.
However, in Britain he was never fully recognized during his lifetime as much of his work was protected by the Official Secrets Act.
In 1951 he was elected as a Fellow of the Royal Society (FRS).
In 1952 he was prosecuted for homosexual acts and elected for chemical castration over a two year prison sentence.
Sadly, Alan Turing died on 7 June, 1954, sixteen days short of his forty-second birthday—an inquest finding the cause of death as suicide by cyanide poisoning. It is noteworthy that evidence was also consistent with accidental poisoning.
In 2014 Queen Elizabeth II officially pardoned Alan Turing for his ‘criminal’ actions.
After a request by Canadian, Mark Carney, Head of the Bank of England, the Queen, proclaimed that her portrait be replaced by that of Turing on the new fifty pound note, fittingly released on his 109th birthday, 23 June, 2021.
In 2015, the author was introduced to his wartime contributions after viewing the movie, The Imitation Game, and as a result was emotionally devastated by the manner Alan Turing was initially treated by his government postwar.
Right: The Imitation Game, movie, 2014. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
With the assistance of the Royal Senior Secretary he suggested the introduction of a unique, one-time award for his salvation of Britain and the Commonwealth. This involved the issuing the Alan Turing Memorial Cross, a medal similar in format to the Victoria Cross with the following distinguishing features— the cross would be polished gold and the symbolic ribbon of vertical rainbow colours. If created this medal would be presented to Alan Turing's surviving family members by the King and current serving Prime Minister of Great Britain with a public ceremony. It would then be placed on permanent display at the entrance to the Imperial War Museum with photos and documentation of Turing’s contribution to the war effort. This could be a unique award or be made available to other individuals who come to light after expiration of the Official Secrets Act. Subsequent medals would differ in that they would have a polished silver cross, burgundy ribbon and would be referred to as the Alan Turing Memorial Silver Cross.
Above: Proposed Alan Turing Memorial Cross.
The Canadian government awarded my Uncle Jack the Bomber Command Bar to his Canadian Volunteer Service Medal— seventy years after he gave his life for his country.
It is never too late to right a wrong or rectify an omission.
It is disappointing the governments of the UK, Australia and Japan have resorted to legal, political and lack of decorations as excuses to erase or ignore the valour and sacrifice of their servicemen, and a remarkable scientist. This is a confusing message for the youth of a nation exploring a career serving in the armed forces—with the distinct possibility of putting their lives on the line in defence of their homeland.
We must never forget our course in life is determined by the lottery of birth. JEA
REFERENCES:
SAMURAI! by Saburo Sakai with Martin Caidin and Fred Saito
A Higher Call by Adam Makos
CWGC Website
National Archives of Australia
Pacific Wrecks website: https://pacificwrecks.com/aircraft/hudson/A16-201....
https://pacificwrecks.com/aircraft/hudson/A16-201/...
Victoria Cross: http://www.hatfield-herts.co.uk/features/victcross...
You Tube Video: Crew photos https://www.google.com/search?q=lockheed+hudson+A1...
Wikipedia
CO-AUTHORS:
John Naylor
Roy Wilcock, Honorary Member of the 625 Squadron Project: Crew bios x4
Mike Edwards
Kelvin Youngs, Photo-editing
Submission by Jack Albrecht in memory of the airmen and the individual citizen for their sacrifice, with respect for their surviving family members.
JA 17-08-2024
JA 09-09-2024 Decoration Note courtesy of Chris Appleton
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning we will remember
them. - Laurence
Binyon
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Last Modified: 12 September 2024, 03:55