Black Cat in the Night, Part 5 - Night on Cactus

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Humidity, decay, mold, and rot were constant companions.

A night off was good, we wouldn’t be flying through the darkness looking for people who shoot at you. We’d only have to put up with the nightly harassment and interdiction (H&I) fire, both incoming and outgoing.

If we were “lucky” we’d get a visit from “Washing Machine Charlie,” an older torpedo plane or dive bomber who, on his several passes over the airfield, dropping small bombs and noisemakers, would retard and advance the engine timing to make it even more annoying, as he sputtered and popped through the night.

For the first few “Charlies,” the Marines would send up night fighters and use anti-aircraft fire to shoot them down, Then the Japs sent a good pilot, who actually was causing real damage. Took a month before they finally got him. Once another pilot showed up that couldn’t hit anything, they let him fly unmolested, lest they get a good one again.

Screeches, buzzes and whines, insects all over. Flies and tiny wasps drinking from the sweat on his forehead and even the tears from his eyes … flies … how many were newly hatched out of some corpse in the jungle?

Take a swig of “shine,” retch-gag and try not to think about it. Clank the Zippo shut after lighting the Lucky.

Flashes of light on the horizon through the coconut trees, storm? Heat lightning like back home? They did get some pretty good rain squalls blow through with thunder. Pretty, lighting up the clouds. He leaned back against the side of his tent trying to coax any cooling breeze. Deep drag on the cigarette, fan himself with a tropical leaf, slight sip of alcohol, shut his eyes …

There …

Was that?

"INCOMING!!!"

Down the beach about a mile, screams of naval gunfire incoming!

SHREEK-KRUMP!

Flash in the distance, others follow in quick succession, walking up the beach toward the runway. Now the reports from the cruiser’s guns reached them, rolling over the distance like actual thunder.

Steve takes off at a sprint to Officer’s country.

“Pink! Pink!”

He bursts into his pilot’s tent to find him putting on his gear. (Bright pink scarf already in place.)

“Sven, we’re getting our Cat off this beach and see if we can give the Japs something else to think about. Get everyone down to the “Kitty” we have to get as much fuel and ordnance on her as we can, beg, borrow, or steal! I’m not losing my plane tonight!”

The IJN¹ guns were working their way to the end of the runway, then walking the fire south along the length of the strip. They had to have spotters in the hills above Henderson. Sea Bees would be out there as soon as the explosions stopped, though they were already stumbling out to fire up their heavy construction vehicles. Some fighters were coughing to life and struggled to get airborne through the barrage.

Word had been passed. All PBY crews make ready. Only two were in a flyable condition right now (another two were out on night patrol). All crews teamed up to arm and fuel the ready Cats, “Pink Kitty" and "Bobcat.” (Their pilot's name was Robert).

Krumps and flashes working south toward them, getting closer.

Tie-down lines removed and stowed, other Cat crews throwing ammo cans onboard and strong-arming bombs into place, no time for anything heavy, managed two 500 pounders the rest 250s. Lucky hit with a 500 they might get through some armor. The 250s, well, they might start a fire, these weren’t soft merchants or transports.

A crusty old Marine armorer lugs over a crate of pineapple grenades and hands it up through the bubble.

“For Luck!” … gotta’ love Marines.

“Hey Gunny! If we get close enough to throw grenades at a Jap Cruiser … I’m going to need more than luck!”

“That’s what the grenades are for!”

“Roger that!”

Other sailors from the other PBY crews asked and begged to come along, we didn’t have unauthorized crew-members, we had extra lookouts and ammunition carriers. (They were drinking buddies.)

The flight mechanic starts the auxiliary power unit to bring the electrical systems online in prep for main engine start. Pull-start like an Evinrude. Everyone checking all around, clear for engine start. Main engines coming online, fire extinguishers stowed for flight.

Krumps on the airstrip getting closer, too much damage for any more fighters tonight. What was up was all they’d get, and pray they got the runway ready for returning damaged fighters. 

Throttles down to idle for a slow warmup. The plane-spotting jeep is pushing the Cat down the ramp to water's edge. Pink greases the throttles forward and they bob into the dark to takeoff position. The big radials growl down an octave as the throttle balls were pushed forward. Salt water spray hitting the bubble.

The only light he sees is the lightening of the cruisers' guns and the resulting bursts and fires on the airfield.

They bounce into the air and head for the cruiser storm. Ready guns.

Pink isn’t messing around, “balls to the wall” full throttle, right at the flashes north of Florida Island. If we only had torpedoes …

My God! We’re low …

We bank around to the backside of the ships targeting Henderson and line up on the muzzle flashes. Nothing coming at us yet. The plane lurches up, one 500 pounder and two 250s pickled off. Physics does the rest.

Sven is searching with his .50 for a target. The 500 pounder slams into the aft 2/3 of the hull in a crew berthing compartment, starting fires. Followed by a 250 pounder clear miss aft with a column of white water visible in the dark. The other 250 pounder might have hit, there was no splash.

One of the Marine Fighters makes a pass … pink .50 cal tracers pounding down and some bouncing wobbly into the sky.

Squeeze the butterfly triggers at the dark shapes on the water.

BOOM—FLASH!

Full broadside below them. Tracers bouncing into the sky off hard surfaces. Bank away, tracers reaching up for them, they can’t see us.

Over the intercom Pink tells us “Tiger,” one of the night patrol Cats was lining up torpedoes, and to watch our shots. We thumbed off another couple dozen rounds for good luck. Damn, forgot about the grenades.

Long slow bank around watching for the targets. Moon glow behind them! Two cruisers, four destroyers (DDs) making for the beach. The IJN often used DDs as transports. One cruiser is rocked by a torpedo, flash of light and a white column of water. Sven thought he saw the silhouette of a PBY in the fire glow.

Concentrate on anything that doesn’t look like water (or a friendly) and shoot it.

Hard bank …

“The hell with those cruisers, we can cause more damage to the destroyers.”

“Take a good look lads!”

Lining roughly up, Pink flashed his landing lights to give his gunners a sight picture, then doused them, and pulled up. The AA flashes from the Destroyers gave his guys what they needed to put lead on target. .30 cal was terrible for bare flesh on the weather decks (slight material damage) while the .50 could penetrate a lot of DD armor.

Two more 250s dropped, one high column splash, the other, possible hit. Sweep by with guns pounding.

Klang! Klang! Klang! Incoming, somebody hit us!

“You good?"

"I’m good!”

Pink flies us out of range and lingers like on an airfield attack, make them think, get in their heads, wait. They’ll tire.

Line up in the moonlight again, another DD, .30’s forward firing, lurch of a 500 and another two 250s dropped. Pink kicks the rudder around to bring the Swede’s deadly .50 to bear. He burns through a full belt, gonna get his ass chewed by the head armorer.

A column of water and flame erupts around the Jap DD. A secondary ammunition or steam explosion, split the destroyer in half, bow and stern lifting, then speeding on, darkness.

They watch another F4F make a pass with just guns, where do we get these men?

“Last pass with bombs, your guns after this.”

Lined up, plane lurches up four 250 pounders riding gravity and luck.

One … maybe two hits … two clear misses.

The .30’s and .50’s open up at anything … Spot fires on the ocean and … wouldn’t you know, the eastern horizon was starting to turn color.

Another pass, more downward tracers ...

“We got nothing left, back to base, breakfast’s on me”

“I hope it’s better than what they’re serving in the chow hall …”

Chuckles …

¹ Imperial Japanese Navy