From Aces Against Japan by Eric Hammel
It's been a long time since I read it. This is one of the more interesting tales.
Ensign SPIDER WEBB, USN
VF-2 (USS Hornet)
Orote Field, Guam, June 19, 1944
Wilbur Butcher Webb, a native of Ardmore, Oklahoma, joined the Navy in OctobenJ938, several months after his eighteenth birthday. He served in the gunnery and radio divisions aboard battleship Colorado, and eventually was assigned to the aviation division as a radioman-gunner flying aboard OS2U scout planes. His persistent requests for flight training were finally acted on in 1une 1942, and he earned his pilot's wings as an aviation pilot first class in July 1943. Shortly thereafter, he was temporarily commissioned as an ensign. Spider Webb joined VF-2 in Hawaii in December 1943 and sailed with it aboard Hornet for the March 1944 strike against the Japanese fleet anchorage in the Palaus. There-after, through the first half of June, VF-2, with Ensign WeB along, participated in one far- ranging strike after another.
June 19, 1944, was not like any other morning we had been at sea, because General Quarters was sounded at 0300. Daylight broke to reveal an ominously placid sea. The night had passed peacefully "enough, 'but the morning dispatches carried with them forebodings of busy and hectic hours ahead. The message from one of our subs was cheer-ful, indeed. It told of six torpedo hits on a Shokaku-class carrier.
At 0715, intercept fighters and the Combat Air 'Patrol' were launched, and fighters from all parts of Task Force 58 intercepted several hundred Japanese torpedo planes, dive- bombers, and fighters at distances up to 150 miles from the carriers. Our fighters stopped them cold.
I took off on a strike to Guam at 1030. Our targets were the airfields, to prevent enemy planes from landing and refueling. I returned from this hop about noon, and things settled down a bit. Radar reported nothing. We were all tired, and we thought our flying was over for the day, except for the Combat Air Patrol and searches for the Japa-nese fleet. However, our division was not scheduled for this duty.
At about l3oo; June 19, a special strike group was put together to silence AA at Agna on Guam, and to destroy some ammo dumps that .Air Combat Intelligence had reported. This was a volunteer hop because everyone had flown at least one hop during the day, and all of us were veryy tired. I normally flew with Lieutenant (jg) Tex Vineyard, who was the division leader for Ginger-12 (our radio call . sign). I askeg Tex if h , wanted to go, but he replied.in the negative because he .had already flowp. two hops. I advised the squadron operations officer that I would go. We were assigned to the fighter escort for the strike group. I was flying on the wing of Lieutenant (jg) Conrad Elliott and was the escort flight's tail-end Charlie., We were given our targets, plotted our course information, and waited for the word to go. Flight quarters had already sounded.
About 1440, the word was passed, "Pilots, man your planes." My assigned aircraft was Number 31. Takeoff and rendezvous were normal and we proceeded to our assigned targets, climbing on course to 28,000 feet. On approaching the target, our division remained high cover for the torpedo planes and divebombers, and then we headed down to drop our 500 pound bombs and strafe our assigned targets around Agana. After the strike on our assigned targets, we proceeded to make a running rendezvous across Guam to just off Orote Peninsula, which was on the west side of the island. We completed our join-up at 3,000 to 4,000 feet, and the entire strike group turned back toward the Hornet.
As our strike group passed over Orote Peninsula I looked down at the water; 200 to 300 yards off the tip of the peninsula, I spotted a life raft. It was a one-man American raft, and it had a pilot in it. He had spilled out one of his dye markers to attract attention. Just a few minutes before, I had observed one of our OS2U Kingfisher floatplanes down on the water several miles ahead, picking up another pilot. I felt that the pilot in the raft would have a better chance if a fighter went down and stood by him until the OS2Ucould pick him up.
I called Elliott by his code nickname and suggested that he obtain permission from the strike group leader (Com-mander Jackson Arnold, who was Ginger-I) so he could go after the OS2U while I circled the downed pilot. Ginger-l gave Elliott permission and Elliot gave the signal for us to break from the formation, 1 rocked my wings and headed for the downed pilot while Elliott headed for the floatplane.
I arrived over the life raft and lowered my speed by throttling back and lowering my wheels and flaps, so I could fly a tight circle around the man. My first thought was to throw him some more dye markers in the event he was not picked up before dark, and also to give him another life raft. I opened my canopy, took my knife out, cut two of the dye markers loose from my Mae West, and threw the markers to the pilot in the water. I was circling him at about l00 feet. After throwing out the dye markers, I proceeded to remove my life raft from under my parachute.
While I was wiggling around trying to get my life raft loose, I glanced backward toward Guam. There was a high ridge of mountains right down the center of the island with some saddles in them. On my second glance back at the ridges, I saw a long line of airplanes. It stretched as far as I could see! They were in the saddles and along the ridges, apparently heading for Orote Airfield. My first thought was "What in the dickens are our planes doing that low over the island with their landing gear down?”
The first planes of the group were heading for me, and they got to within less than 100 yards of me before I realized that they were Val dive-bombers, with fixed landing gear, flying in divisions of three. The aircraft above the Vals were Zeros. When they began to reach the landing pattern for the field, they banked away from me, and I could see the large red meatballs on their sides. I estimated that there were thirty to forty planes in all.
I was not very concerned about my position at the time. I just thought, "Boy, this is it. Make it good and get as many as you can before they know you're here." I picked up my microphone, told Elliott of my situation, asked him to come help me and told him that I was going on in alone. I retracted my landing gear; closed my canopy; tightened my seatbelt, which I had loosened in order to remove my raft; , flipped on my gun-camera and gun switches and hit my gun chargers I had not been detected so far so I decided not to gain altitude, but to just slide into their traffic pattern and get as many as I could, before I was detected.
As I started to slide in, I again picked up my microphone and made a blanket broadcast: "Any American fighter, I have forty Japanese planes surrounded at Orote Airfield. I need some help!" By the time I had dropped my microphone I was less than 20 yards behind the first group of three Val dive-bombers. I started overrunning them, so I lowered my landing gear and flaps.
The first plane on the left of the three was the first in my gunsight. I squeezed my gun trigger, and my six 50-caliber machine guns tore into the aircraft, which exploded instantly. I eased over to the middle plane and again squeezed my trigger. The top of the Val's vertical stabilizer disintegrated, and several bullet hit the rear-seat gunner in the chest. Then the starboard wing of the aircraft came off and the plane exploded.
By the. time I eased in behind the third plane, my speed had built up; I started overrunning it. The rear-seat gunner was firing directly at me, but he did not hit my aircraft. I was holding down the trigger,. but this plane did not seem to want to burn. I kept saying, "Burn you bastard," over and over until it finally did explode. If this plane had not exploded, I would have collided with it, I guess. When it did explode, I flew through and, sustained several holes in, my F6F from pieces of it.
After these first three, I.slipped in behind another group of three Vals, and again I started by firing on the plane on the left. The rear-seat gunner of this aircraft was firing directly at me from.no farther than 30 yards. I could see the colors of his flight suit, helmet, and skin. Then he seemed to kind of give up. He put his hands up before his face-maybe
he thought I was going to run into him - just before sever-al 50 ca1iber slugs hit him in the chest and face. The air-craft started burning, and.the pilot bailed out over the side. We were at no more than 200 feet, so I doubt if he made it.
The next plane, which was in. the middle, got away, but I managed to get behind the one on the right. When 1 fired, it started shedding pieces and smoking badly. Then his tail
disintegrated, and he just fell.
There was considerable fire coming from around Orote Peninsula; I could see tracers continually coming up in front of me. I guess they had never seen an F6F Hellcat flying so slow. At the time I did not realize that my plane had been hit.
By this time there were planes allover the sky. Many other American fighters and arrived and, no matter where I looked. I could see either a parachute or a burning plane. It seemed like a mad flying circus, only this was real.
Aftet the fifth Val had fallen, my guns had stopped firing, so I headed out, away from the fight, and pushed my gun chargers until I got two guns working, one on each. side. Then I headed back into the fight. Almost immediately, I saw a Val coming toward me from above. It was at about 1,000 feet. I got it into my sights and squeezed the trigger. As my guns fired, a third gun started working. This Val seemed to explode in half just behind the pilot, but the pilot bailed out.
(and so on.)
curly
