was to simulate the carrier deck takeoffs which we knew would be one of the most dangerous parts of the mission. Wind and water conditions, visibility, and altitude all complicated the effort, but Lieutenant Henry Miller helped by teaching us the right techniques to get maximum thrust out of our engines. A successful take off left us with maybe 25 to 30 feet of airspace between the plane and the surface of the water.
From Eglin we continued on to Sacramento Air Depot for a final inspection and any last-minute modifications. Then, the 16 B-25s were flown to Alameda Naval Air Station on San Francisco Bay. We had one last night on the town before our departure on April 2, 1942, and we worried about Japanese spies since you could look through the fog and see our waiting carrier out in the bay with all the B-25s on deck. A day or two after we set out, we joined Task Force 16, commanded by Vice Admiral William F.“ Bull” Halsey, in the mid- Pacific, just north of Hawaii. Admiral Halsey’ s force included the USS Enterprise carrier and an escort of cruisers and destroyers, which would offer protection in case of a Japanese air attack.
The plan was to pull up within 400 or 500 miles of the Japanese coast before launching our attack, but a Japanese patrol boat spotted us and so Admiral Halsey made the call to launch that day when we were still about 650 miles off shore. Conditions were pretty rough. Water was coming up over the bow causing a slippery surface on the deck. Fortunately, the gusting wind worked to our advantage. We had taken off for a dry run with just a 10-knot wind. But now we had a 23-knot wind ripping across the deck. There were white lines painted to mark our take off position. From there, a launcher indicated the appropriate
THE DOOLITTLE RAID CAUSED A SENSATION BACK HOME IN THE STATES. FOR THE FIRST TIME, AMERICANS HAD HOPE- HOPE THAT, EVENTUALLY, THE WAR COULD BE WON.
time matching an“ up” movement with the water to begin our takeoff. Just like we practiced, with about 20 to 30 feet between us and the end of the deck, we were airborne.
Our flight time to the shore of Japan was roughly four hours. We maintained about a 168-mph clip and flew at just around 200 feet the whole way. We were too low to receive attention from Japanese aircraft and there happened to be a Japanese plane, the Mitsubishi G3M, that looked a lot like the B-25s, so we didn’ t get much attention from the surface either. We were ashore north of Tokyo and Col. Doolittle pulled up to about 1,500 feet before dropping the payload. We were jostled a bit by anti-aircraft, but didn’ t receive any direct hits. Our objective was met, but the rendezvous and departure didn’ t go exactly as planned.
We were supposed to land and gas up in China, then continue on west. All but one of the 16 planes made it to the Chinese coast, except for one that ran out of fuel and had to land in Vladivostok, Russia. I can remember we were a few hours outside of Tokyo and Hank Miller, our navigator, passed a note to Col. Doolittle and I, letting us know that we were destined to end up about 180 miles off course from the China coast. The weather was terrible— a ton of wind, lightning, and rain— and the warm front had created a tailwind that dragged us off course. With this information, and not wanting to trust Japanese radio, we were navigating poor weather over China at about 9,000 feet, knowing we’ d soon have to bail out.
For me that was the scariest time. Standing in the airplane, already ejecting the escape panel, I wondered what would happen next. We didn’ t know anything about the terrain, other than that it was mountainous. There weren’ t any other options, so there I stood. I was supposed to count,“ One thousand, two thousand, three
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