Tom Brokaw recounts in his superb book, The Greatest Generation, a story his mother told him of the day Gordon Larsen came into the post office where she worked. Larsen was usually a genial and popular member of their community, but that day he had stopped in to complain about the rowdiness of the teenagers on Halloween the night before.

Brokaw’s mother was surprised at his tone and asked him in good humor, “Oh Gordon, what were you doing when you were 17?”

Gordon had looked at her squarely in the eye and replied, “I was landing at Guadalcanal.” He then turned and left the post office.

How many men and women, who walk among us, now in their eighties and nineties, can say “I was at Normandy” or “I was in the first wave at Iwo Jima”? Brokaw’s book has helped us to recognize the valor and sacrifice of these veterans of a war unlike any previous war or any since.

It was a generation united by a common purpose and also by common values – duty, honor, economy, courage, service, love of family and country, and, above all, responsibility for oneself.

In this issue we salute all of these valiant warriors with the abbreviated recollection of a few.

 

Jack Ullman, B-29 Navigator

Jack Ullman, a resident of Galloway Ridge in Pittsboro, trained as a B-29 navigator and soon left the States westward-bound, destination unknown. Over the Pacific, “We opened our orders and learned we were going to Tinian in the Marianas.” The day he arrived he was assigned to a crew flying in the first low-level incendiary raid over Tokyo, part of General Curtis LeMay’s strategy to carry the battle to the Japanese mainland.

Twenty-two missions followed until, on his 24th, he was navigator on Dumbo (lifeguard) for the Enola Gay Hiroshima A-bomb mission. It was all Ultra Top Secret. “We had no idea what we really had but knew we could not be captured but must self-destruct or ditch in the ocean.” When the first A-bomb was released, “We were too far away to see the ‘mushroom cloud’ but heard reports on the radio as we flew back to Tinian. Then we better understood the mystery about these new guys, who had been cordoned off in a separate area near our base, and their weird-looking yellow bomb we had dubbed ‘Fat Boy.’”

His final mission was flying formation over the battleship Missouri as the Japanese surrendered. “What a glorious sight and event! THE WAR WAS OVER!”

 

Jack Ullman’s Autobiography

I enlisted in the Air Force immediately after my 18th birthday in January 1943. I had hoped to be a pilot – didn’t most 18 years old boys? – but was satisfied when I was qualified to train as a navigator. My coordination was indicated as the reason I wouldn’t be considered for pilot training. (Little did I know until I became paralyzed 30 years later, that I had a malformation in my spinal cord which undoubtedly affected my coordination. That gives one new respect for the military’s testing procedures!)

After basic in San Antonio, I went to cadet training at U. of Missouri and then Ellington Field, Texas. I was commissioned a Second Lt., received radar training at Boca Raton, Fla., and then advanced training in B29s at Clovis NM. From there our crew went to Lincoln, Nebraska for “staging” to go overseas.

The employees of the Lockheed plant in Kansas paid for a B 29 (War Bonds). Named it the “Bataan Avenger” – and it was that plane we picked up with a lot of press fanfare. My parents came down from Chicago on the train to “say goodbye” and took our crew to a farewell dinner the night before we left.

We flew to Mather Field, California where we left the States for Hawaii and further destination unknown until after we left Hawaii. We saw Waikiki Beach and the terrible devastation at Pearl Harbor. After we were headed westward, we opened our orders and learned we would be going to Tinian in the Marianas. Tinian along with Saipan and Guam were the three Islands on which B29s were based.

The day after we arrived, I was assigned to replace a navigator who went home on emergency leave. (That was the last time I saw “my crew” or our plane. They must have been assigned to another base.)

We took off on what turned out to be the first low-level incendiary raid over Tokyo. The B 29s were designed for strategic bombing from high altitude (30,000 ft +/-). General Cortis Le May came up with the strategy to drop Napalm firebombs from low altitudes, essentially burning up the targeted cities. The Japs were surprised and we encountered little or no flak or fighter resistance. (That would change on subsequent missions).

But our crews were surprised too as we flew into the thermal updrafts over the target city. We were tossed around like kites and our pilots had their hands full getting out of the area. At one point, we were in a dive, and I could see the fires below through the copilot’s window, forward to the right. Fortunately, we pulled out of the dive and headed back toward Tinian.

That’s when the “fun” started for me. I had not yet been checked out on Loran, the navigational device. We had to observe radio silence, so there was no signal from Tinian. Going up mostly in daylight was easy with other planes in view. When we were about 50 miles offshore, we could view the coast and Target area on a radar scope. But heading back was something else. I had no choice but to “shoot the stars”. I had been checked out in celestial months earlier but was anything but proficient. We “zigzagged.” Back and forth across the Pacific, not being sure we wouldn’t have to go into Iwo Jima for an emergency fuel stop. But luck was with me and we eventually saw Tinian on our radar scope. We landed with very little fuel but safely. I never knew if my pilot or crew knew how uncertain I was.

Back at the base, I immediately got checked out on Loran! From then on, navigation was relatively simple and the anxiety of whether or not we’d make it back to base or have to stop at Iwo Jima was determinable with ease and a high level of confidence.

I would be remiss if I didn’t pay tribute to the forces that took and secured Iwo Jima. Earlier squadrons of plans from Marianas suffered many casualties at the hands of Iwo based Jap fighters. That, plus having Iwo available for emergency landings, made an enormous difference in prosecuting the air war.

In all, I flew on 25 more missions. To highlight a few:

•  Roughest #10:  Hitachi Aircraft Factory:  Lots of flak and some fighters. We lost an engine but made it back to Tinian (I have souvenir piece of flak which came into my compartment breaking through floor under my briefcase. Wore on a keychain but had to quit at too many holes in pocket). We were awarded DFC for this mission.

•  13th:  500 planes over Tokyo. Caught in lights and lots of flak. 17 planes were lost but we were OK.

•  Several missions laying “strings” on mines on Inland Sea to “bottle up” shipping in support of Okinawa Campaign. No resistance and strategically important and interesting.

•  16th:  Had to salvo over small town as bomb bay doors hadn’t opened. Went to Iwo for gas. Still fighting on other end of island.

•  24th:  Flew Dumbo (lifeguard) for the Enola Gay Hiroshima A-Bomb mission. Briefed with crew but had no idea what they really had. Only knew they could not be captured but must self destruct of ditch into the ocean. We were to circle off coasts and spot them for rescue ship if necessary. We were too far away to see the “cloud” but heard report on radio as we flew back to Tinian, probably the same broadcast in U.S. We were as awed as everyone else and better understood why all the mystery about “these new guys” cordoned off in a separate area near our base. And their wired-looking yellow bomb dubbed “Fat Boy”.

•  Finally, mission #25 and my last – flying information over the battleship Missouri as MacArthur received the surrender. What a glorious sight and event! THE WAR WAS OVER!