American Valor Quarterly Issue 9 - Summer 2012 | Page 23

an attack on Pearl Harbor was broadcast.
This, of course, meant war for me. It
was my luck, avoiding the Philippines. My
unit was assigned there, so I left Hamilton
Field, but I had a midair collision. They
left in November and Pearl Harbor
happened in December. Thank the Lord,
I never quite made it to the Philippines.
Back at Hamilton Field, we were placed
on alert and not permitted to leave the
base. On Dec. 17, 55 mechanics, 55
armorers and 55 pilots, including me,
were bused to San Francisco. We boarded
the U.S.S. Polk at the harbor there, and
she departed around midnight on Dec.
21, loaded with fighting men and
equipment.
The unit traveled to New Zealand and
Australia before going to the beautiful
Indonesian islands, where I would see
battle for the first time. While in Brisbane,
Australia, that January, we continued to
grab a few flying hours, preparing for
combat. Word came back that things
were going increasingly badly in the
Philippines. The ability of our P-36s, P35s and P-40s to match the Japanese
AGM Zero fighter seemed to be
dropping to zero.

Top & Bottom: Leon J. Delisle Collection

My first battle was in the skies over the

forth. We got smart and would say, “Seven
P-40s went out over Java today, and none
of them returned.”

Morehead and the other brave pilots from
Hamilton Field helped to turn the tide of the
war even as imperial Japan seemed to be taking
over. He would go on to fly in Europe, with
this photo taken with the 1st FG in Foggia,
Italy, circa 1944-45.

island of Java. It was like the Marianas
Turkey Shoot in reverse. But you never
hear about that because no one wants
to hear about disasters. It was presented
as if everything was going fine, but that
was necessary to deceive the enemy.
Revealing terrible losses is valuable to
the enemy, and we had terrible losses.
Seven P-40s went up against Zeros, and
none returned. We used to mock
Edward R. Murrow, the impressive war
correspondent in London. He would
say, “44 British bombers went out over
the continent, and 39 returned” and so

“When I closed my canopy, it felt like I was closing my coffin for the last time going up against the
A-6M ‘Zero’ in air to air combat.” The “early dark days” of the war saw a hodge podge of pilots
and crews who were pushed from the Philippines to Borneo and all the way to Australia before
MacArthur drew a line in the sand. Morehead with his crew chief, Sgt. Harley J. Wishart, in
Darwin, Australia in 1942.

I was part of a flight of about a dozen P40s from Amberly Field, Brisbane, on Jan.
29, 1942. We made our way to Darwin,
the capital city of Northern Territory,
Australia, and then completed a grueling
flight through torrential rain to the
Indonesian island of Timor. Of many
years of flying in many kinds of weather
and flying conditions, the flight from
Darwin to Timor led by the B-17 that day
in early February was the worst flight of
my life. It was a comfort when we finally
had the 600-mile-long string of islands lying
beneath our path.
Then into view came perhaps the most
beautiful isle of all—Bali. We landed by
the city of Denpasar to refuel around 9:30
a.m. The airfield was only a short distance
from the beach. While waiting for my turn,
I suddenly saw a lone airplane turning away
from the airfield. Five or six of our planes
became airborne and while climbing out
were hit by about 15 Japanese Zeros. Two
of our planes were shot down, two
damaged and two force-landed.
My own plane had not been refueled, so
Lt. Marion Fuchs and I ran away from the
field, diving into an old rock basin nearby
to avoid the bombs. After the departure
of the Zeros, 31 bombers descended on
the field and began a number of bomb
runs, trying to destroy the parked fighters
there and the fuel dump at one end of the
field. After their third pass, we figured they
were through.
Lt. Fuchs and I made our way back to the
airfield, but it was just in time to undergo
another bombing run. This time the
bombers came in low and surprised us.
We dashed over to some palm trees,
feeling some protection by putting them
between the field and us. But we felt as if
we were on the receiving end of a bank
shot on a pool table. The bomb fragments
were cutting the coconuts out of the trees,

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