Roresishms

A Virtual World of Live Pictures.

First Lieutenant Art Tuttle, our flight engineer, yelled into the intercom; “Doc, our number 4 engine is showing a drop in oil pressure and an increase in cylinder head temperature.” Keep an eye out for Art and let me know if your numbers keep going south, “ordered Captain Doc Waller, our pilot.

As the co-pilot of the flight, he knew that the B-29 engines and other failures had become problems for many other crews stationed outside of Piardoba, India. We were often overloaded with a gross weight of between 140,000 and 160,000 pounds, causing the engines to overheat.

Girlfriends, losses and pin ups

The cumulus clouds rapidly accumulating below caught my attention. But I realized that eighteen hours of B-29 flight time, per mission, at China’s Burma Theater gave us all a lot of time to think; wives and girlfriends the “B-17 Love Boat over Walker Field, my wife, Betty Ann, coaxing the great bomber through the skies on the Michigan / Ohio State football game, my time in the cavalry and new assignment as an assistant General Smith’s loss of Lt. Edward Pearce, a Flint Northern football star and 3-year-old card winner in the state of Michigan, on a mountainside in French Morocco … later, 1st Lt. Charles Hill (MSU racer), piloting a Liberator over Germany could not return a month later he stabbed me like a knife.

Pearce, Hill, and I stayed together for 14 transfers to camps and bases, moving from the Cavalry to the Armed Forces and then to the Air Force. We all received our wings together following the same path and I cried for them and their crews. Heartbroken, her widows with the newborn carried on … and kept the faith that their loved ones would return.

The selection of nose art was important to the unity of the crew … the spirit and pride of each crew. The more personal, intimate, and irreverent, the better for 19-24 year olds in this war. Perhaps a pin-up on the side of a plane would make the enemy stop (with laughter or desire) in their quest to shoot down our plane, giving our gunners a chance to catch it first. A playboy pinup or worse sure was exciting for most and a relief for some. Topics ranged from racy or sexual to cartoons / cartoons, people, logo / name, and name-only themes. What the heck, the louder the better. It did relieve some tension and we let it rip. It was a lot of fun and all of a sudden all the men became artists in every aircrew campaign for a representative coat of arms.

The star duster fight

SSgt James Lynch, our right gunner suddenly yelled into the intercom; “Doc, our number 4 is smoking.” Here we go again, I thought, as Captain Doc Waller, our pilot, told Jimmy to watch out for the flames and First Lieutenant Art Tuttle, a flight engineer, to step on the gauges, monitor temperatures and pressures and your emergency checklist.

The timing of number 4 couldn’t have been worse. We were 34,000 feet above the Himalayas. This is not a bombing mission but a cargo flight. We carry eight rubber fuel tanks secured on the pump racks, 2900 gallons to unload after another 13 hours of direct flight to our forward base in Cheng Tu Valley … in preparation for the attack to bomb the homeland of Japan .

We were a long way from home with so much fuel on board. A possible engine fire was now scarier than being shot at Kyushu and Yokohama from an intense and accurate anti-aircraft gun.

I looked at Doc, silently concentrating on his next task. He was going through his emergency procedures and options as he descended and reversed course, in case the worst happened. He knew that twelve men counted on their life and death decisions. Dock told me to take the yoke and flew “STARDUSTER” on our new heading. I kept an eye out for number 4 while researching Art Tuttle for engine performance numbers and asking for constant updates from our engine eyes on the back.

Through the early morning darkness we keep moving forward. None of us expected that our missions would arrive without casualties or that our own aircraft would have a better chance than the others to leave without damage. The question we all ponder … What if? And it seemed like the answer to what if it could become reality … shortly.

The number 4 engine was slowly losing power and now we smelled gas fumes from the nose of the plane. With a sudden and dramatic yaw to the right, TSgt Alden Huisjen, our lead gunner, yelled, “We now have thick black smoke coming out of number 4.” Quickly, I turned to confirm our problem boy on the starboard wing. Doc gave me that look and I nodded to confirm the reality of our problem. Our converted B-29 tanker was now in serious trouble.

Doc immediately reduced power upon hearing the smoke coming from the engine, even as Art reported that all the engine instruments were displaying normal indications. The power reduction had reduced the volume of smoke, but within 10 minutes, a large plume of oil and smoke suddenly came out of the upper nacelle. Sergeant Don Carter, our radio operator, went to the forward pump bay to investigate the gas fumes. Doc was concerned that the fumes would saturate the plane and that the entire crew could be affected.

“Fire, fire now coming out of number 4,” Alden yelled, “The flames are growing.”

Suddenly, there was a second shudder and Art looked at the tachometer and notified the pilots that the MAP / RPMs at number 4 were dropping rapidly. The engine then jerked violently and came to a complete stop …

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