Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Another Double Take!

 Yeah, I know, another repeat, but this one is one of my first, AKA almost 10 years ago.

As some of you may have observed,  heroes and their acts of heroism both large and small are something I respect very much.

The following article is one of them.  A sergeant on a B-29 in WWII saves the aircraft and its crew.  Here's the story.

 

The universe is so vast and ageless that the life of one man can only be measured by the size of his sacrifice.*

 Several years ago, I happened to have some time to tour the parade ground at Lackland AFB and came across a monument honoring the Air Force (and its predecessor organizations) Medal of Honor recipients.  There are 60 and while I had a fair knowledge of some of them, I realized that I didn’t even recognize some of the names.  I resolved then to rectify that lack of knowledge. (I've done quite a bit, but not nearly completely) This post was the third in the series.



SSgt Henry E. Erwin, “Red” to his friends, was born in Alabama in 1921.  When his father suddenly passed away, he dropped out of school to work in a steel mill to feed his family.  When the war came, he went to train as a pilot, but eventually washed out.  He then was selected for Radio Operator school and did so well that he was offered a commission.  He turned that down believing that WWII would be over before he could join the fight.

Now, I realize that in this day and age of microaggressions and safe spaces, this kind of man might be threatening to some, while I doubt anyone reading this blog falls into that category,  if so, please excuse yourself and leave. As I finished reading this section of his bio, I respected him already.  

He made it to the war, flying missions as a radio operator on B-29s.  The Air Force at this point was flying fire bombing missions over Japan.  



This required the B-29s to fly at relatively low level where AAA and enemy fighters would be most effective. 



 On April 12th 1945,  SSgt Erwin’s crew were in the lead bomber.  That bomber, and its Radio Operator, had an additional duty.  They were to drop phosphorus grenades to signal attacking aircraft when the lead plane was in a designated assembly area. 

From SSgt Erwin’s Citation.


"He was the radio operator of a B-29 airplane leading a group formation to attack Koriyama, Japan. He was charged with the additional duty of dropping phosphoresce smoke bombs to aid in assembling the group when the launching point was reached. Upon entering the assembly area, aircraft fire and enemy fighter opposition was encountered. Among the phosphoresce bombs launched by S/Sgt. Erwin, 1 proved faulty, exploding in the launching chute, and shot back into the interior of the aircraft, striking him in the face. The burning phosphoresce obliterated his nose and completely blinded him. Smoke filled the plane, obscuring the vision of the pilot. S/Sgt. Erwin realized that the aircraft and crew would be lost if the burning bomb remained in the plane. Without regard for his own safety, he picked it up and feeling his way, instinctively, crawled around the gun turret and headed for the copilot's window. He found the navigator's table obstructing his passage. Grasping the burning bomb between his forearm and body, he unleashed the spring lock and raised the table. Struggling through the narrow passage he stumbled forward into the smoke-filled pilot's compartment. Groping with his burning hands, he located the window and threw the bomb out. Completely aflame, he fell back upon the floor. The smoke cleared, the pilot, at 300 feet, pulled the plane out of its dive. S/Sgt. Erwin's gallantry and heroism above and beyond the call of duty saved the lives of his comrades."
OK, He’s in his compartment which apparently is 2 compartments back from the cockpit.  He’s got a burning incendiary device, which burns between 1000 and 2000 degrees Fahrenheit, on the floor of his compartment.  

He’s blinded by the explosion and smoke is so thick that the pilot, two compartments forward, can’t see the instrument panel to fly the airplane.  He picks up the device and carries it into the Navigator compartment, but can’t get through, so puts the burning device under his arm and clears the obstruction.  Once cleared, he continues forward into the cockpit and feels his way to the window, opens it and throws the device out.  The pilot is then able to recover the aircraft from the dive at 300’ ASL, so all this was done while the aircraft was out of control.

Because Phosphorus burns when in contact with Oxygen, SSgt Erwin is still on fire when he collapses in the cockpit.  Other crewmembers put the fire out by wrapping him in clothing, but anytime SSgt Erwin became uncovered, the fire restarted. 



The Aircraft diverted to an emergency field on Iwo Jima which had been taken by the Marines only a couple of weeks prior.  SSgt Erwin is conscious for the entire flight.  Once on the ground, medics begin to treat him but believe his injuries are too severe to survive. 

Believing the SSgt is not long for this mortal coil, General LeMay approves the Medal of Honor.  According to this source, the only actual Medal of Honor, in the Pacific was on display at Hickam AB Hawaii.  Lemay dispatches an aircraft to retrieve it.  However, the display is locked and no one can be found to unlock it.  Aircrew being Aircrew, and LeMay being LeMay, the Aircrew breaks into the display, grabs the Medal and returns to Guam.



SSgt Erwin is presented the Medal on the 19th of April, finally passing away on January 16th 2002 at age 80. “Never give up, Never surrender”, although spoken in a comedy, has been something I’ve always strived for.  Pretty sure SSgt Erwin is a proponent of that philosophy.  

It took 30 months and 41 surgeries for him to recover enough to be discharged from the Hospital and the Army.  Upon return to civilian life, he worked for the VA as a benefits counselor for burn patients.  

 Warrior!

* The quotation is from a letter written by Flying Officer V. A. Rosewarne to his mother to be delivered in the event of his death.  Flying Officer Rosewarne was co-pilot on a Wellington Bomber shot down over Dunkirk while on a mission to support the evacuation.  All 6 members of the crew were killed.  The letter was eventually published and made into a short film which was released to try and raise spirits at a dark time in WWII.  Below is a version of the letter read by John Gielgud  


Peace out y'all!




16 comments:

  1. Heckva choice for a repeat juvat.... what fortitude that man had and then continuing to help other vets.

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    1. Yeah, the generation that lived and fought WWII was, indeed, the greatest generation.
      What fortitude and focus on completing his mission, regardless of the consequences and pain.
      Truly amazing
      juvat

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  2. One heck of a brave man. He had what I believe is called "fortitude."

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    1. A large pair of testicles also
      juvat

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  3. Juvat, I do not "remember" this story the first time out, so I am glad you re-published it. Certainly puts what I complain about in my current role into context.

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    1. I also appreciate the "break the case, get the medal" vignette. This is the sort of problem solving we need in the modern world.

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    2. THBB (1). Those guys were definitely tough.
      Talk about “Never give up, never surrender”. This guy had that in Spades!
      juvat

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    3. Yeah, I liked that also. “To hell with the chairwarmers sitting safely a couple of thousand miles away. They can order a new medal and fix the display. We’ve got a mission to complete. Let’s go!”
      Warriors!
      juvat

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  4. Great post, Sarge! These stories need to be told - and retold.
    An almost duplicate act would occur during the Vietnam war. See A1C John Levitow.
    Boat Guy

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    1. Yep, well aware of that one also. Might be showing up soon!
      ;-)
      juvat

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  5. Definitely deserving of being shared again. Awesome behavior at great personal sacrifice.
    Good on the folks who righteously delivered the Medal of Honor in a timely manner. None of that wait 10 years to wend thru the chop chain and debate society eager to downgrade things (rightly so in most cases). THIS was a MOH action.
    John Blackshoe

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  6. Re: "Greatest Generation." That term has always bugged me a little. Greater than those of the generation that pledged their "live, fortunes, and sacred honor"? Greater then those who four score and seven years later gave "their last full measure?" Or who went "Over There?" Were frozen at Chosin? Were Soldiers and Young? Or played in The Sandbox (that's what, 30 odd years? Some doing 5, 6, 8 tours?)?

    I'm not trying to take away from what our troops, and our home front, accomplished in WWII, and it was one helluvan effort and an amazing show of American industrial and manufacturing might, but it seems to me that calling it "The Greatest" diminishes all the others.

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    1. I would hope that later vets never took that moniker as a slight. When we sent young men into the meat grinders across the pacific and at D-Day, while losing 8K bombers over Europe, all the while the homeland sacrificed so much, that earned them some sort of superlative moniker. Fortunately their sacrifices lead to improved ways of warfare for the later warriors.

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  7. And why did the B-29s start flying and bombing from a much lower altitude? Because the Jet Stream was so bad that accuracy at 'normal bombing altitude' was extremely lacking, like the bombs would fly away away away from point of aim. If the B-29s had been able to bomb at 30,000 ft, they would have been out of the flak envelope and way above the altitude of most of Japan's fighters.

    So weather conditions forced said bombers to go low. And with accuracy sucking balls because now they're dodging fighters and flak, and the curious distribution of manufactories for components (done in small buildings, sometimes even in the home) and then said components only going to a real factory for final assembly, the firebombings were the way to handle it. Mixed in with boom-bombs.

    To top it all off, the effects of the firebombings messed up air currents and it was not unknown for the bombers to exhibit sudden fluxuations of altitude, up to 1,000 feet either way.

    Add to that the propensity of the Superfort to catch on fire easily due to real issues and it was a sucky flight in and out.

    Which makes his valor that much more valorous.

    He was ready to lay down his life for his crew. The very definition of a true hero. That he survived in any capacity was and is a miracle.

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