The bright day is done, and we are for the dark.
Shakespeare
Antony and Cleopatra
It is said that bad news travels fast, and certainly it was true in late 1943. The word quickly spread that Butch O’Hare was dead, lost on some sort of night mission in the Gilberts.
Beyond that, little was immediately known. Famous as the Navy’s first fighter ace and a Medal of Honor winner, in November O’Hare had taken command of Air Group Six aboard the Enterprise, temporarily operating VF-2 as the fighter squadron. O’Hare had taken a personal interest in flying night fighters from carriers, and when he disappeared the night of 26 November, he was on a “bat patrol” with another conventional F6F-3 in radio contact with a radar-equipped TBF.
Some theorized that O’Hare was shot down by a Japanese bomber which was trying to attack the task force; others thought he fell to American gun fire. But the fact was that nobody really knew. It had been only the second night of the experiment, and while it resulted in two kills by the Avenger, it demonstrated in tragic terms the problems inherent in operating single-engine fighters from carriers at night.
The U.S. Navy had been working on carrier-based night fighters for nearly a year before O’Hare’s death, making use of British technological and operational experience. However, the initial Air Interception radar sets installed in experimental F4U-2 Corsairs were custom-built by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and were “all-American.”
The Navy’s night fighter program was coded Project Affirm, begun at NAS Quonset Point, Rhode Island, in early 1942. The first squadron produced by the program was the Corsair-equipped VF (N) -75 which was flying in the Solomons that fall, though half the unit was redesignated VF (N) -101 and went to the fleet carriers in four-plane detachments. The second and third squadrons, equipped with F6F-3Es, likewise went to the fast carriers in four-plane detachments, becoming operational in early 1944.
There was relatively little difference between the Corsair and Hellcat in adaptability to night fighting, as both had good visibility and could accommodate the radar equipment. The F4U had a slight speed advantage and a somewhat better altitude performance, but the F6F was much easier to land and was considered a more stable gun platform. For these two reasons, primarily, the Grumman was identified early on as the more promising night fighter.
Initial enthusiasm was such that half of the subsequent Hellcats produced were to be night fighters, but both technical and human resources precluded anything of the sort. The AI Model A sets were still being virtually custom built, and the 29-week specialized pilot training course ensured that night fighters would remain a limited commodity for quite some time.
Experimental installation of airborne intercept radar on an early F6F-3. Photo: R. P. Gill
Still, there was reason for optimism. Mounted in a bulbous pod under the starboard wing, the AN/APS-4 (Army-Navy/Airborne Pulse Search Equipment) weighed only 180 pounds and gave coverage out to four miles. It was designed with simplicity in mind, being operated and monitored by the pilot without undue diversion from his more immediate task of flying the airplane.
The F6F-3E, using APS-4, had a very limited production run. Barely two hundred -3 Hellcats were completed with AIA fittings, and of these a mere 18 were actually equipped with APS-4. They were allotted to the detachments of VF (N) -76 and -77 which went aboard various fleet carriers at the end of 1943 and in early 1944. The remaining F6F-3 night fighters became the -3N variant, with the newer APS-6 radar.
Though heavier than the earlier unit by some 70 pounds, APS-6 in the search mode gave the night fighter pilot a search radius of five to five-and-one-half miles. Its blind-fire control capability was considered unreliable and its use was proscribed in some squadrons. In search mode, APS-6 was effective as close as 400 feet, and could usually detect a large ship at over 20 miles. A fleet formation such as a task force could be picked up as far out as 60 miles.
APS-6’s greatest improvement over previous AI sets was its new “double dot” display system. Besides the true blip reflected from the target, a “ghost” dot was painted on the screen immediately to the right of the bogey, and this second image indicated relative height above or below the night fighter. Thus, height and bearing were presented simultaneously on one scope. This feature, coupled with the set’s simplicity of operation—only six dials or knobs besides the on-off switch—made APS-6 highly popular with pilots. Many frankly considered it superior to the sets which followed for several years.
The -3 Night Hellcats became a proving ground for night fighter equipment and techniques. Cockpit lighting was a primary feature, and red instrument panel lights, coupled with flat windscreens in place of the standard curved variety, helped reduce glare. A radar altimeter provided the exact height information so crucial in instrument flying, and an APS-13 tail-warning radar provided 60° coverage behind the fighter at 800 yards. With a top speed of about 360 mph at 18,000 feet and a climb rate of almost 3,100 feet per minute, the Hellcat night fighter was well matched against its opposition.
The -3Es and -3Ns aboard the Hornet, Yorktown, Bunker Hill, Wasp, Essex, and Lexington in the first half of 1944 helped establish night fighters in the fleet, but acceptance was slow in coming. Largely this was due to the inherent contradiction involved in operating night fliers aboard daytime carriers. The flight schedule aboard a fast carrier often called for 15 hours of operations, usually from 0430 to 1930. By dark, the deck crews were exhausted from spotting and respotting aircraft for numerous launches and recoveries. It hardly seemed worth the effort to recover a few night fighters when radar-controlled gunfire could presumably deal with nighttime raiders.
As a result, the night fighter pilots spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in their ready rooms, chafing at the inactivity. And with idleness their skills lost the sharp edge so essential to success. It was a vicious circle which tended to feed on itself, and early night fighter actions hardly inspired confidence. During the two-day Truk raid in February, 1944, a Yorktown Night Hellcat pursued a Japanese torpedo plane into gun range of the task force, causing the AA director to hold fire for fear of hitting the Grumman. Result: the Intrepid limped back to Pearl Harbor with a hole in her stern.
Nocturnal fighter protection for the Fast Carrier Task Force was provided by detachments of F6F-3Ns in the early 1944, as by this VF-(N)-76 aircraft aboard the USS Essex. The squadron also had detachments aboard the Yorktown, Lexington, Bunker Hill, and Hornet.
The situation was not improved by an incident at the end of March. During an operation near the Palaus, the Lexington launched four F6F-3Ns in response to bogeys on the scope in the early morning. Almost three hours later, well after sunrise, a conventional Hellcat mistook one of its nocturnal kin for a hostile and, as one might say, shot the living daylights out of it. The night fighter plopped down to a water landing, though happily the pilot was rescued.
Three Night Hellcat squadrons were at sea from January to September of 1944: VF (N)-76, VF (N)-77, and VF (N)-78, with detachments spread among nine carriers. The most successful was Detachment Two of VF (N) -76 aboard the Hornet. From April to September, Lieutenant Russell L. Reiserer’s team accounted for 25 confirmed kills, over half of all F6F night fighter kills during this period. But only eight were actually made in the hours of darkness, seven of which came in a single spectacular offensive mission.
Lieutenants (jg) Fred L. Dungan and John W. Dear were launched at 0030 on 4 July to conduct an intruder strike against Chichi Jima in the Bonins. Their primary mission was to locate and attack enemy shipping with 500-pound bombs, since no Japanese aircraft were expected on the island.
The two Hellcats remained on station four hours before a large procession of vessels departed the harbor. Dear had just attacked a destroyer when “Buck” Dungan radioed for help; three Rufe float fighters were on his tail.
In all, there were nine or ten Rufes airborne. Dear quickly splashed two, but the next half-hour was one long, dark dogfight. Dungan shot down four and Dear bagged another before the surviving Rufes disengaged, leaving both Hellcats badly damaged. Dungan, with a bullet in his shoulder, landed aboard the Yorktown, and Dear was right behind. His engine ran out of oil just as his hook engaged the wire. Nor was that all. Chichi Jima proved just as rugged a target for Russ Reiserer, who returned to the Hornet with face wounds inflicted by the spectacular, intense flak.
Though night fighters demonstrated their potential in such missions, problems remained. There were too few Night Hellcats available at any one time due to the continuing maintenance schedule for electronics. And task group commanders were loath to interrupt their nightly routine with the unpopular chore of launching and recovering BatCaps. Furthermore, many captains still put their faith in evasive shiphandling and AA guns to counter the nocturnal bomber threat.
But even the most expert seamanship couldn’t prevent a snooper from tracking a task force with near impunity in the absence of defending night fighters. It therefore became plain that the most logical solution to all these problems was a full-time night air group operating from a night carrier.
Enter Lieutenant Commander Turner F. Caldwell. Out of the Naval Academy Class of ’35, Caldwell was something of a legend from the Guadalcanal campaign, where he won three Navy Crosses as an SBD squadron commander. He commissioned VF (N) -79 at Quonset Point on 20 January 1944 and moved the infant unit to NAAF Charlestown, Rhode Island, at the end of the month. Charlestown became Project Affirm’s permanent home.
Caldwell set about building his squadron around three lieutenants, all former Dauntless pilots like himself with combat experience in the Solomons, vintage 1942. His executive officer was William E. Henry, a husky blue-eyed Californian who would finish as the most successful night fighter pilot in the U.S. Navy. The rest of the squadron was filled out with hand-picked ensigns fresh from operational training. One of them was Jack S. Berkheimer, an engaging 20-year-old New Yorker who could fall asleep on his feet after two beers. He would become one of the Navy’s most proficient night hunters, but he would never reach 22.
After four months at Charlestown, VF (N) -79 moved to San Diego in preparation for deployment to the Pacific. Arriving in Hawaii in early June, Caldwell’s Hellcats and the attached Avengers went through Captain J. Griffin’s “finishing school” at Barber’s Point, home of the Night Combat Training Unit. The night fliers were now at their peak readiness: highly proficient in instrument flying, carrier-qualified for day and night, and versed in gunnery and radar interception. Even their night vision was improved with constant practice. By using only the peripheral area of their eyesight, night fighters could better distinguish forms rather than details in darkness.
Most of the pilots now had close to 300 hours in Hellcats, much of it on instruments. In preparation for three-to four-hour missions, they had to be able to read the gauges by second nature and force themselves to disregard totally what their natural senses tried to tell them. Vertigo could be fatal, as one’s inner ear might demand corrective measures for a right turn when the needle and ball said the aircraft was perfectly level.
Meanwhile, the energetic Caldwell, now a full commander, had been selling his concept of a “pure” night air group to anyone who would listen. The prospect improved with the availability of the light carrier Independence, recently returned to Hawaii from a six-month overhaul in the States. The flattop’s skipper, Captain E. C. Ewen, found Caldwell’s enthusiasm infectious, though the squadron commander was not without reservations. He characterized the project as “a new experiment in suicide,”1 and much later confessed he felt a bit like the steward who said, “Man was never made to fly, nohow. And if he was made to fly, he was never made to fly off a ship. And if he was made to fly off a ship, he was never made to fly off a ship at night.”2
Despite any uncertainties, in late August Turner Caldwell got what he most wanted. Fighting 79 was dissolved to reform as VF (N) -41 while the enlarged TBM contingent was designated VT(N)-41. Caldwell assumed new duties as Commander, Night Air Group 41, while retaining personal command of the fighter squadron, enlarged to 14 F6F-5Ns and five “straight” -5s. On 29 August the experiment began when the Independence sortied from Eniwetok with Task Force 38.
Disappointment followed fast upon departure. The air group was employed almost entirely in a conventional role, the Night Hellcats having their radomes removed so as not to lose one over the Philippines. It was bothersome for pilots because with the bulb off the wing, the aircraft was out of rig and the stick not centered.
Daylight CAPs and fighter sweeps occupied much of VF (N) -41’s time, and bitter resentment began to set in. Though dawn and dusk CAPs were flown, it was obvious the specialized training was going largely to waste. Similar feelings were shared by the night fighter detachments aboard Essex-class carriers. The original Hellcat night fighter squadrons were decommissioned and absorbed into the fighter units of the carriers upon which they were based. Many—possibly most—of these pilots found themselves flying routine day missions. With the Independence in the task force, there was not enough night work for other VFNs to obtain flight pay or remain current.
The first full-time night air group was Air Group 41 aboard the light carrier Independence from September 1944 to January 1945. Here a batch of F6F-5Ns warm up their engines prior to launch in October 1944. Photo: R. M. Hill
Things picked up a bit on 12 September when two of Caldwell’s pilots shot down a Betty snooper near the task force in early daylight. But the unit’s first genuine night fighter success came that evening when Bill Henry, now a veteran of over 2,100 hours flight time, was returning with his division from a dusk CAP. The Independence radar picked up a bogey and vectored the four Hellcats towards it, but not before the intruder got within gun range of the fleet.
Henry recalled what happened next: “When the ships fired at the Jap, he turned and headed for Leyte and started to climb. We were vectored after him, and I finally got him on my radar at 21,000 feet almost over Samar. We were required to identify planes before firing, and I ended up almost on top of him. It was a Dinah. I dropped back and fired. The plane started to burn so I eased off to the left. Jack Berkheimer on my wing also fired, and I fired again and he blew up. After that action we kept our radar installed for all flights.”3
But this initial success by the first night air group failed to change the situation very much. A few days later eleven day fighter pilots were brought in to augment VF (N) -41’s strength, and the month’s remaining combats were all conventional daylight engagements. Caldwell’s Hellcats finished their first month of operations with ten confirmed kills, including four on 22 September during a sweep over Luzon in which Henry bagged two Vals and Berkheimer destroyed a Zeke. September also saw numerous heckler missions assigned, the F6Fs rotating with the Avengers, but like the squadron’s air combats, much of this activity was under the glare of the sun instead of the dark of the moon.
October was to be the decisive month for Caldwell’s pilots. The strikes on Formosa and the invasion of the Philippines gave the Night Hellcats plenty of opportunity to prove their worth under conditions for which they were trained. Of the 12 kills credited to VF (N) -41 during the month, 10 were destroyed in completely dark or semidark conditions. And once again, Bill Henry was in the right place at the right time.
Shortly before 1900 on 12 October, Henry’s division was in the landing pattern after a dusk CAP off Formosa when a scattered group of Bettys initiated an attack on the task group. “We were vectored out and just as I passed over one of our DDs I picked up a target on my radar,” Henry recalled. “We were about 500 feet with low clouds and light rain. I closed to about 700 feet and saw the Betty. I fired and the plane burned at both wing roots and dove into the water and exploded. The controller turned us around and I picked up another target. We ran up on two more Bettys. I got one and my wingman, Ensign Jim Barnett, got the other.”4
But it wasn’t one-sided. Two other Independence pilots, Ensigns G. W. Obenour and J. F. Moore, lost radio contact and were never heard from again. The night wasn’t over, however, for at 0500 “Berky” Berkheimer and R. W. Klock came across three Emily flying boats during a heckler mission over Formosa. Berkheimer shot down two and Klock splashed the third.
Early on the 15th the task force was still off Formosa. Bill Henry was sitting in his Hellcat, call sign Cupid 13, taking his turn at the Condition Two watch. A bogey was reported, and the exec was catapulted off at 0245, almost immediately picking up a target three miles ahead. The blip entered a rain shower, so Henry turned down his radar to keep the scope from “flooding,” for rain as well as aircraft painted on a scope. Coming out of the squall, Henry turned up his set again and regained his target. He closed in at 700 feet, identified the bandit as an Emily, and fired into the port wing. Personnel on the carrier saw the giant flying boat explode and hit the water. Perhaps better than any other victory scored by the squadron, this one exemplified their complete mastery of both instrument flying and the technical knowledge necessary for success as a night fighter pilot.
Lieutenant William E. Henry, executive officer of VF (N) -41, was the Navy’s top night fighter pilot. He was credited with six and one-half nocturnal victories and four by day. Photo: W. E. Henry
The night concept was now truly well proven, and it was a mark of confidence when Fighting 41’s daytime fighter pilots were transferred back to regular F6F squadrons in the middle of the month.
From Formosa the fast carriers returned to Philippine waters, and while there VF (N) -41 almost suffered another casualty. Before leaving the West Coast, Ensign Harry Johnson’s wife had told Bill Henry to “take care of Harry,” so the exec made Johnson one of his wingmen. During the first strike on Clark Field near Manila, Johnson’s F6F was shot up by Zekes and he ditched en route back to the task group. After he was picked up and returned to the ship, Johnson went straight to Henry and advised him, “You’re not taking very good care of me.”5
The sprawling, confused Battle of Leyte Gulf began on 24 October, and VF(N)-41 may have fired the first shots in this, one of the greatest of all naval engagements. At 0215 Jack Berkheimer shot down an Emily and splashed a Mavis an hour and 20 minutes later. Ensign W. E. Miller and his wingman got a pair of snoopers later in the morning.
But that night the snoopers were back. One Mavis in particular proved troublesome when the Independence Hellcats tried to corner it long after sunset. Most scout planes departed when their presence became known, but this one seemed intent on tracking the Third Fleet all through the night. It was imperative to shoot her down, lest she report Halsey’s position at daylight.
Finally, at 0135 on the 25th, two Enterprise night fighters of VF-20 were launched. One was flown by the skipper, Commander James S. Gray, Jr., a veteran fighter pilot from the early days of the war. He had just taken command after the previous CO had been shot down attacking Japanese shipping during the day.
Gray and his wingman were vectored 40 miles to the southwest, where radar contact was quickly established. But it was obvious why the Independence fighters hadn’t bagged this snooper yet. In the black moonless sky, even using binoculars, Gray acquired and lost visual contact three times. It seemed Jim Gray’s luck as a night fighter was no good. At the end of August he had lost a sure kill as CO of VF (N) -78 because tracer ammunition had erroneously been loaded in his guns, giving away his position to a Betty he was stalking.
But this night the situation was reversed. The persistent Mavis might have escaped had not the enemy tail gunner opened fire. His tracers provided Gray with a point of aim, and the Hellcat opened fire from 300 yards astern. Struck squarely in the fuselage, the big Kawanishi fell burning into the sea.
Jim Gray later recalled with pride, “Admiral Halsey said this was the second most important single kill of the war. (The first was the interception of Yamamoto.) Without it, the Third Fleet would have been pinpointed for kamikazes the next morning.”6
Earlier that same night an Independence Hellcat located the Japanese battleship-cruiser force in the Sibuyan Sea, heading east for San Bernardino Strait. It was one of the most valuable bits of tactical recon in the war, but it went unheeded. Admiral Halsey was after the enemy carriers.
Fighting 41 proved useful in a decidedly different manner a few days later. At dusk on the 29th a large strike was returning to the task force from Luzon when a sudden squall came up, drastically reducing ceiling and visibility. Landing operations came to an immediate halt and the strike planes could only mill about, doing little more than keeping straight and level. Few air groups were night qualified, so Caldwell’s Hellcats rounded up the strays and herded them back to their respective ships. Had the night fighters not been available, many aircraft would have been lost to fuel exhaustion.
November brought nine more victories to VF(N)-41, including one in daylight. Bill Henry bagged another Emily on the 19th, becoming the first Navy pilot with five or more kills at night. Only an hour later, at 0545, Jack Berkheimer became the Navy’s second night ace by downing an Oscar during a heckler mission over Luzon.
Still in the Philippines through December, the Independence Hellcats clawed down five more victims, including three on the 16th. But the law of averages was finally catching up. There had been no pilot losses since mid-October, but mid-December changed all that. On the 14th two F6F pilots were shot down, and one was lost in an operational accident. Harry Johnson’s plane was hit by AA fire and he ditched in a lake. This time it took Johnson considerably longer to get back and remind his division leader of the promise made to his wife, but Filipino guerrillas eventually escorted him to safety. The other two pilots were not recovered.
Two nights later Jack Berkheimer was leading his wingman over Luzon. Berky radioed, “I see a plane with its lights on over Manila. I’m going after it.”7 Shortly thereafter the wingman saw a large explosion in the sky and could get no response from Berkheimer. It was thought the young New Yorker had collided with his intended victim or was hit by AA fire. With a total of seven and one-half confirmed victories, including five and one-half at night, Berkheimer was second only to his friend Bill Henry among VF (N) -41’s top hunters.
Night Air Group 41 finished its tour in January, knocking down ten more planes for a career total of 46. Squadron records credited Henry with ten and one-half, of which six and one-half were at night. Wally Miller and Jim Barnett followed Berkheimer with four and one-sixth and three and one-third respectively. Caldwell’s belief in his methods and personnel had been entirely vindicated, though at a price. Ten of the 35 night fighter pilots were lost from August through January—nearly 30 percent. Six pilots (excluding Johnson) and seven aircraft had been lost to enemy action, but only three pilots were lost in operational accidents. Turner Caldwell had proved that after the careful selection of pilots and meticulous training, the night squadrons could operate with a better safety record than most day squadrons.
Flying from the 70-foot-wide deck of a CVL in adverse weather and darkness for five months, Turner Caldwell heaved an audible sigh of relief upon his return to the States. His final word on the affair: “All I can say is, we got away with it!”8
As Caldwell’s air group rotated home, Night Air Group 90 arrived to take its place. Led by Commander William I. Martin, a long-time advocate of night carrier operations, Air Group 90 was the first such unit embarked on board a full-sized fleet carrier, the tireless Enterprise. With a strength of 34 Hellcats and 21 Avengers, Martin’s group would be better able to perform offensive missions than Caldwell’s more limited resources had allowed from a CVL. The fighter squadron was under Lieutenant Commander Robert J. McCullough, with 19 F6F-5Ns, eleven -5Es and two photo birds.
The first combat for VF (N) -90 came on 6 January 1945 when Lieutenant Carl S. Nielsen shot down a Dinah, an Oscar, and a Zeke during the day. A fourth daylight victory followed before Lieutenant James J. Wood made the unit’s first successful night intercepts. Flying alone, he shot down a Frances in the pattern over Tainan airfield on 21 January and a Helen on 19 February. But there were still lessons to be learned. Near the end of January a four-plane heckler flight to southwestern Formosa strafed an airfield. Afterwards, a brilliant orange light was chased a considerable distance before the Hellcat pilots decided they were pursuing a star.
Meanwhile, yet another night air group was making its debut in February. This was Air Group 53 aboard the venerable Saratoga, which included a mixture of night and day aircraft. VF (N) -53 had F6F-5Ns and VT (N) -53 had TBM-3Ds, but there was also VF-53 with conventional F6F-5s. The air group began operations on 17 February, intending to provide round-the-clock air cover for the Iwo Jima invasion. This bold experiment was cut short on the fifth day when poor old Sara was clobbered by five kamikazes. Though she survived, this was the third and last time she was knocked out of the war. It left the Enterprise as the only night carrier in the task force, and Martin’s crews proved equal to the challenge. From 23 February to 2 March, more than one solid week, the Night Hellcats of Air Group 90 remained continuously on station over the Volcano Islands with CAPs, sweeps, and heckler missions. In 175 hours, only one accident occurred when Ensign Rex “Milton landed his plane in three distinct pieces.
Lieutenant Kenneth D. Smith made the squadron’s only kill during this period, downing a Helen in the darkness of the 24th. He would be heard from again.
Following the Iwo Jima operation, VF (N) -90 provided 14 night fighter pilots to other carriers on a sort of “lend-lease” basis. Selection for this potentially unrewarding duty was effected by drawing lots. But for some it was an unexpected opportunity. Flying from the Bennington with Air Group 82, Lieutenant Smith and Lieutenant (jg) William G. Piscopo accounted for three confirmed and a probable between them during the first week of April, all at night. Ensign Waldo West, detached to the Bunker Hill’s VF-84, splashed three bandits by himself during the same month.
Night fighters were unusually active in the early morning hours of 18 March, prior to a large strike on Kyushu. Enterprise Hellcats engaged in numerous pursuits which resulted in four kills and a probable. Dodging in and out of low clouds and rain squalls, Japanese aircraft were able to remain within sight of the task force for several hours before the F6Fs caught them. Lieutenant (jg) R. C. Wattenberger chased a Helen “all over the Western Pacific”9 and once around the task force but finally called in a splash. Lieutenant (jg) W. R. Williams, a persistent New Hampshire pilot, had an even tougher time. He repeatedly drove off one pesky snooper for nearly three hours, then cornered it and sent it down. A Frances and a Jake were also splashed and a Tabby went unconfirmed. It was VF (N) -90’s best night thus far, marred only by the loss of Lieutenant (jg) John Cole’s F6F, shot down by “friendly” AA fire. Cole was fished out of the water by a U.S. destroyer.
Meanwhile, a division of Hornet night fighters launched at 0400 to conduct a predawn heckler mission to Kanoya. The VF-17 pilots patrolled with their navigation lights turned off, and enjoyed a profitable half-hour. Between them, the four Hellcats claimed six kills over Kanoya’s airdromes. One was a Japanese-built DC-3, code-named Tabby, which became the first victim of Lieutenant Robert J. Humphrey. In the next three months Humphrey would add four more nighttime victories.
Other night fighter pilots found numerous targets during April and May. On 6 April Lieutenant Donald E. Umphres of VF-83 scored four kills in two sorties. The first was a Betty which he chased by himself for a half-hour before dawn near the north tip of Okinawa. Early that evening Umphres was headed to the rendezvous spot for a dusk CAP with two other Night Hellcats when he was vectored onto three small groups totaling five Oscars and three Vals. Despite low clouds and diminishing visibility, the night fighters conducted a daytime engagement, splashing all eight hostiles without damage to themselves. Umphres dropped a Val and two Oscars while Ensign J. M. Barnes got a pair of each and Ensign W. K. Somers downed the other Oscar.
Also near Okinawa on 4 May, Lieutenant (jg) John Orth of Fighting Nine engaged three large targets in a row. The 23-year-old reservist shot down all three in rapid succession before they could reach the task force, winning a Navy Cross in the process. This predawn intercept raised Orth’s personal total to six night victories, a figure exceeded in the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps only by Bill Henry’s six and one-half nocturnal kills.
While the night fighter detachments of day fighter squadrons were enjoying their successes, Commander Bill Martin had retrieved his pilots out “on loan” to other carriers and planned an exceptionally ambitious intruder mission over southern Kyushu for the night of 12-13 May. Martin led 16 of his Avengers to designated targets in the Sasebo and Nagasaki areas, bombing airfields and harbor installations with the intention of disrupting enemy plans to attack the fast carriers as they entered Japanese waters. As the TBMs withdrew in the first grey light of the 13th, VF (N) - 90’s Hellcats were already on the prowl, finding the best shooting of their entire tour. Seven of Lieutenant Commander Bob McCullough’s F6F-5Ns launched at 0230 and flew to the target area.
First blood was drawn by Lieutenant Owen D. Young who spotted the exhaust flame of a Tony over the water off Kanoya. Young dived too rapidly, overshot his target, and had to extend his wheels to slow down enough to turn in behind his victim, which he shot down in flames.
Young and Ken Smith then proceeded to Kanoya East where the lights of taxiing aircraft were visible. But it was still too dark for visual shooting so they made repeated dummy strafing runs to keep the Japanese from taking off until visibility improved. Smith and Young shot up four fighters on the ground, but Smith’s plane took several hits in the port wing, and he broke off to return to the ship. Not far from the airfield he was bounced by a pair of Tonys, but one of them made the fatal error of pulling up directly in front of the Hellcat. Smith couldn’t miss, and he didn’t. The other bandit was last seen making knots for home, a course of action the Enterprise pilot wisely emulated. The Tony was his fifth victory, and his only one in daylight.
Meanwhile, Owen Young staged a miniature turkey shoot at the expense of three Jake floatplanes taking off from Kagoshima Bay. He bagged four victims in this, his only combat. In all, Fighting 90 claimed ten kills during this mission, a conglomeration of six Japanese aircraft types. No Enterprise planes were lost, and not a single enemy aircraft bothered the task force during its run-in to launch strikes against the Japanese home islands.
Late the night of the 13th, Lieutenant (jg) Charles Latrobe added a Betty to the pair of Petes he’d collected some 20 hours previously. It was the 34th victory credited to a VF (N) -90 pilot—the 16th and last at night.
At 0300 on the 14th, the Enterprise sent 15 night fighters to Kyushu and Shikoku. The ten over Kyushu tangled with three Oscars, and Lieutenant (jg) L. F. Harrison got one. When the intruder divisions returned to the task force, they found an enemy attack in progress and were ordered to orbit. Lieutenant (jg) G. P. Taylor was vectored onto an incoming single Zeke and shot it down for the squadron’s final victory. For at 0700 another bomb-laden Zeke dropped out of the clouds and, despite intense AA fire, split-essed directly into the Enterprise’s forward elevator. The “Big E,” veteran of every carrier battle but Coral Sea, holder of 20 battle stars, was turned into an inferno. From nearby ships it seemed she could hardly stay afloat another hour, but superb damage control pulled her through with only 80 casualties. Next day she set course to the east under her own power.
Since early January VF (N) -90 had been credited with 36 Japanese planes in the air and 19 on the ground, losing 14 Hellcats to all causes. Five of these were attributable to enemy action, but only one was known shot down by enemy aircraft.
Six-plane night fighter detachments remained aboard most daytime CVs till the end of the war, generally in the ratio of four F6F-5Ns to two -5Es. Over 1,500 Hellcat night fighters were produced during the war, including 80 for Britain, but not all the others went to the U.S. Navy.
The Marines were also to be heard from.
The first Marine F6F night fighter squadron engaged in extensive combat was VMF(N)-541. Originally based in the Palaus, which had become the backwater of the war by the fall of 1944, the squadron had to content itself with a single Jake splashed by Major N. L. Mitchell on the night of 31 October. But the Army’s misfortune in the Philippines turned to the Marines’ advantage when single-engine Japanese fighter-bombers proved too fast for P-61 Black Widows. To deal successfully with these nuisance raiders, mainly Oscars, a faster plane was needed, and the P-61 squadron at Tacloban traded places with 541 in the Palaus.
Five-Forty-One arrived at Tacloban on 3 December 1944. Once established, however, the “Bat Eyes” CO, Lieutenant Colonel Pete Lambrecht, discovered that his 12 Night Hellcats would not be flying typical Marine missions. Instead of “pure” night fighter patrols, their primary assignment was to provide dawn and dusk CAP. And to complicate things, the Army radar crews were inexperienced and unfamiliar with the Navy-Marine procedures. In one early mission they steered a 541 pilot away from his intended victim and temporarily got him lost!
But the squadron’s first success came only two nights after arriving in the Philippines. Lieutenant R. E. Montgomery caught and destroyed an Oscar in the dark on 5 December, and two more bandits were shot down the next night.
These were 541’s last night kills. The remainder of the month brought 17 daylight victories, including 11 on a dawn patrol over a convoy on the 12th. By 3 January 1945, 32 days after its arrival, VMF (N) -541 had shot down 22 planes in six combats. The remaining eight days at Tacloban brought no further claims, and the Bat Eyes returned to Palau on 12 January. General Douglas MacArthur was so grateful for their assistance that they became the only Marine squadron to receive an Army Distinguished Unit Citation.
Perhaps the unknown poet was thinking of 541 when he penned this bit of doggerel, “With the help of God and a few Marines, Mac-Arthur returned to the Philippines.”
If the Philippines proved the happy hunting ground for VMF (N) -541, then the Ryukyus were an outright game preserve for the night hunters of 533, 542, and 543. The last two arrived at Okinawa on 7 and 9 April respectively, each with 15 Night Hellcats launched from escort carriers.
The night fighters were badly needed. Okinawa was well within range of home-based enemy aircraft, and there were frequent night raids. Major William C. Kellum’s 542 at Yontan Airfield on the island’s west coast became the Tactical Air Force’s (TAF) first operational night fighter squadron, but had to scrounge for itself until the ground echelon caught up on 1 May. Even then it was rough going, for what facilities existed were unfinished or makeshift. It was much the same for the Night Hawks of 543 who set up shop on nearby Kadena.
Unlike their counterparts in the Philippines, the Okinawa night fighters flew both day and night missions regularly. The standard tactical organization called for a pair of F6F-5Ns to fly in the daytime or on night strike missions, and for a single night fighter on NCAP. Both squadrons had an early opportunity to put these procedures to work, for they each broke into the scoring column the same night, 16 April.
Second Lieutenants A. J. Arceneaux and W. W. Campbell of 542 were on dusk CAP that evening when they tagged on to a pair of single-engine fighters 45 miles west of “Point Bolo” on Okinawa’s southwest coast. In a short combat Arceneaux claimed a Zeke and Campbell a Frank, both at 1845 hours. Only ten minutes later Captain James A. Etheridge made 543’s first kill almost directly over Kadena. Outbound on a CAP with his wingman, Etheridge spotted a Frank attempting to attack the field and pulled into it, firing at wide deflection from port. The Frank smoked, then flamed, and went into the beach from a right-hand slow roll. American AA fire hit Etheridge’s Hellcat but he landed safely.
The next night Second Lieutenant C. A. Engman of 543 destroyed a Sally near Naha Airfield but his propeller struck the water on pulling up from his low-level attack. With his engine stopped, Engman quickly zoomed to 50 feet, locked his canopy back, lowered his flaps and dead-sticked the Grumman into a water landing. He was rescued by a passing vessel four hours later. The worst was not over, however, as both squadrons lost a pilot and an aircraft in a takeoff collision resulting from the closely spaced traffic patterns of the two airfields in the early morning.
Yontan was bombed almost every night in April, despite the fact that by month’s end 542 claimed five kills and 543 a pair. Both units added two more before Lieutenant Colonel Marion “Mac” Magruder brought VMF (N) -533 into Yontan on 10 May. The “Crystal Gazers” had spent the previous 12 months at Eniwetok without so much as a sniff of Japanese aircraft. But their fortunes were changing. They would eventually own almost every record worth having in Marine Corps night fighter circles, due in no small part to their own gunsight modification.
The Mark VIII reflecting sight projected a ring of dots around the center pipper as a means of gauging range and deflection. But the luminescence from these dots caused excessive glare, and the rheostat could not be turned low enough to cure the problem. Therefore, 533 soldered over the dots leaving only the pipper for sighting. It considerably enhanced a pilot’s visual acuity.
Five-Thirty-Three’s first score was recorded at 0300 on the 16th—a full 30 days after the TAF’s first night fighter successes—when First Lieutenant R. M. Wilhide shot down a Betty in flames over Kume Shima Island. The next night he was killed by U.S. antiaircraft fire while chasing two bogeys closing on Ie Shima.
On the 18th Magruder’s pilots set a record by splashing five enemy aircraft in less than two hours. First Lieutenant E. N. LeFaivre was vectored by Ringtail GCI into a head-on approach to his first victim and the pilot gained radar contact at three miles. After reversing his course, LeFaivre pursued the bogey for 25 miles before closing in and identifying it as a Hamp. He exploded his unsuspecting target with two bursts. Shortly another contact was made, but it evaded at high speed. But only half an hour after the Hamp went down, LeFaivre got his third chance of the night and bagged a Betty.
The stellar performance this night was turned in by First Lieutenant R. E. Wellwood. Between 2200 and midnight he exploded one Betty, shot a second into a graveyard spin, and chased a third into thick U.S. anti-aircraft fire, which put 18 holes in his F6F-5N and knocked out his radio. Turning back from his final pass, Wellwood saw the burning remains of the Betty floating on the sea. He had made three definite kills with only 517 rounds of .50-caliber ammunition.
By splashing five of their six contacts that night, “Black Mac’s Killers” amply demonstrated the deadly efficiency which radar-guided fighters had attained since the early period of experimentation. Highly trained pilots and well-drilled GCI officers in six radar stations were making Okinawa a much quieter place to sleep at night.
But the Japanese, as was their custom, had a new variation on an old theme in the wind.
On the night of 24–25 May, Major R. B. Porter landed at Yontan at about 2200 after taking his turn in the flight schedule of VMF (N) -542. Porter was the new CO, the day before having relieved Major Bill Kellum who was to fill a staff vacancy. At 25, Bruce Porter was one of the youngest squadron commanders in the Corps. He came to 542 with three victories from his 1943 tour in the Solomons as a Corsair pilot with VMF-121, and had previously served as exec of 533 and 511 aboard the escort carrier Block Island. The Japanese would have a spectacular welcome for the new CO.
Meanwhile, Magruder’s pilots had the western quadrant that night, and Lieutenants J. E. Smurr and T. B. Trammell each splashed a Betty shortly after 2100. Another 533 pilot, First Lieutenant A. F. Dellamano, shot down a Betty and a Jake near Ie Shima in the 20 minutes before Porter landed at Yontan.
At 2220 Dellamano got another contact on his screen and identified it visually as a Sally. He pursued from 13,000 feet down to 10,000, finally dropping his wheels to match the target’s speed as he closed in from astern and slightly below. One long burst torched the Sally, which dived into the water. Five-Thirty-Three had bagged five victims in about 90 minutes. And a Betty fell to 543.
But these planes may have been intended as sacrificial decoys to cover what was happening farther east at Yontan. Major Porter had just reached his tent on the hill overlooking 542’s revetments when he got a call on his command phone that Japanese aircraft were landing on the field. It seemed incredible, but it was true.
The Japanese penchant for suicide tactics had taken a new turn, and five Sallys carrying members of a special airborne attack unit had attempted to crash-land on Yontan. Only one of them made it; the other four were shot down from low altitude by the field’s perimeter AA guns. But that one bellied in on the runway at about 2230, disgorging a dozen suicide commandos who immediately ran to parked aircraft, clamping on suction grenades and firing automatic weapons.
VMF-511, a mixed Hellcat-Corsair Marine squadron, flew from the escort carrier Block Island in early 1945. The unit included eight F6F-5Ns.
Consternation temporarily reigned in the Marine compounds. Rumors flew back and forth that a dozen or more enemy aircraft had crashed or were landing; scores of blood-thirsty Japanese were reported swarming the flight line. Pilots and ground crews jumped into their foxholes, took up small arms, and prepared to defend themselves. The aviators watched tracer bullets cutting a path back and forth on the field, saw burning aircraft, and watched incredulously as 70,000 gallons of aviation gasoline erupted like a medium-sized volcano. The firing seemed to move slowly closer and many airmen cut loose at shadowy targets, either real or imagined. The excitement lasted until dawn, by which time Marine infantry and armor arrived to take control of the situation.
When documents found on Japanese bodies were examined, they revealed the chilling nature of the commandos’ intentions. The Japanese had reasonably accurate maps of Yontan and its facilities, and their two major targets were the fuel depots, which they destroyed, and the night fighter area. In a decidedly backward compliment to the Night Hellcats’ efficiency, the suicide troops had orders to slip into the camps and kill as many night fighter personnel as possible.
American casualties were light, with 2 killed and 18 wounded, but 9 aircraft were completely destroyed and nearly 30 damaged, including three F6Fs. The blazing fuel dumps burned for two days, but the aircraft losses were replaced or repaired, and the first and last Giretsu raid was over, if not forgotten.
The night of 27 May saw more action, with claims for four more kills: two by 543 which splashed a Jake and a Hamp. The Jake was downed by Captain Etheridge, who had opened the squadron’s account on 16 April. But the most impressive performance of the evening belonged to First Lieutenant J. E. Smurr of 533. Vectored onto a persistent bogey northwest of Ie Shima, Smurr closed head-on, turned on command of the controller and got a blip on his scope at a range of only one-eighth mile. Flying in bright moonlight the Marine almost immediately identified his target as a Jake floatplane. He followed it through a full circle to port, then into a starboard turn which allowed him to get inside and pull deflection. At only 50 yards Smurr didn’t need his gunsight. He triggered one very short burst which hit squarely between the floats. The Jake folded up in an incendiary ball and fell to the water, 45 seconds after Smurr made contact. Upon landing back at Yontan, the armorers found Smurr had fired only 62 rounds. It was probably the quickest and definitely the most efficient kill ever made by a Marine night fighter.
By the end of May the three Night Hellcat units on Okinawa had added 29 more “meatballs” to their scoreboards. Magruder’s Crystal Gazers accounted for 15 of these, all in the second half of the month. But conventional night fighter operations were augmented by the introduction of heckler missions, largely by 542. Carrying rockets and bombs, Porter’s pilots flew 26 sorties over enemy territory in May, seeking targets of opportunity. It wasn’t all one-sided, though, and Second Lieutenant W. W. Campbell failed to return after splashing a bogey on the 16th, exactly four weeks after he had scored one of 542’s first two victories.
June started slowly. First Lieutenant William E. Smith of 542 got an Irving early in the morning of the third, and First Lieutenant E. P. Pendrey of 543 expended 1,200 rounds of .50 caliber on a Val the evening of the seventh. Five-Thirty-Three recorded two successes during the ninth, with First Lieutenant J. A. Stokes downing a Tony before dawn and Captain Robert Baird a Jake late that evening. The first kill had been a long time coming for Bob Baird, who had flown a complete tour in the Corsairs of VMF (N)-532 without any sightings. But he was in line for several more opportunities.
The next day First Lieutenant Fred Hilliard scored 542’s only daylight victory, splashing an unidentified hostile in the afternoon; then he reported he had contact with another. Nothing more was heard from Hilliard, though a thorough search was made. He was the squadron’s second and last combat casualty.
It fell to Bruce Porter to avenge Hilliard’s loss. The 542 CO was up on a five-hour “nightcap” on the 15th in his personal F6F-5N named “Black Death.” Unlike the squadron’s other aircraft, Porter’s had a mixed armament of two 20-mm cannon and four .50-caliber machine guns.
The major had drawn a time slot which included the 2000 to midnight stint, the period when half of all night fighter victories were scored. It was a cloudy, moonless night when the controller alerted the young Californian to a bogey shortly after 2100. Porter was vectored west towards an inbound aircraft at about 13,000 feet and established contact on his scope. He identified the intruder as a Nick twin-engine fighter, armed his guns, and fired twice.
“The 20s put out a load of lead that was just fantastic,”10 Porter said, and the combined firepower seemed to chop the Nick in two. The splash was confirmed by the radar station on Ie Shima at 2118.
An hour later the same controller reported another contact. Porter was surprised. Four 542 pilots now had two kills each, but all had been made in two separate missions; a double hadn’t yet been scored. But Porter began climbing to catch a bogey coming in high and fast, and barely overtook it outside the AA screen. It was 2225 when Porter lined up an unsuspecting Betty from six o’clock low, his eyes peering intently through his illuminated gunsight. He triggered one burst from all guns, and the Betty’s fuel tanks exploded in an orange-yellow glare.
Two years and three days after his first confirmed victory back in the Solomons, Bruce Porter had become probably the only Marine Corps pilot to score multiple kills in both the Corsair and Hellcat. When Porter landed at Yontan, 542’s flight surgeon broke out some brandy to celebrate the CO’s marksmanship. The squadron average was 785 rounds per confirmed kill. Porter had used only 500 rounds of .50 caliber and 200 rounds of 20 mm for two.
Five-Thirty-Three had moved to Ie Shima on the 15th but that didn’t stop Bob Baird from emulating Porter’s achievement the next night by shooting down two aircraft in little more than an hour. The first was a Betty contacted near Ie Shima at 23,000 feet. Baird climbed up from his patrol altitude of 10,000 feet in ten minutes and closed to within half a mile by referring to his scope. The Betty had already turned on her bombing run and was nearly into the AA zone, so the controller told Baird to orbit. Baird protested, saying he had a solid contact, and requested permission to continue. His aggressiveness was rewarded. Approval granted, he moved to within 300 feet astern, verified the identification, and opened fire. Only three of his six .50s were operable, so Baird fired three or four more bursts into the bomber’s fuselage. The Betty crashed in flames from 16,000 feet.
The most successful Marine night fighter squadron was VMF (N) -533, which scored 35 confirmed kills during the Okinawa campaign. This 533 Hellcat was based at Ie Shima in June of 1945.
Arsenic Control was working Baird again an hour later, positioning him above another inbound bogey. The Marine dropped his landing gear to reduce speed and began a let-down from 21,000 to 18,000 feet, gaining a blip on his scope at one and a half miles. He moved off to one side to silhouette the bomber against the lighter eastern horizon and made it out as a Nell. Indicating 160 knots, he moved back astern and fired from 100 yards range, this time with only two guns working. But it was enough. The starboard engine caught fire and the Nell spun straight down.
Nearly a week later, on 22 June, 533 bagged five victims in one 24-hour period for the third time in its career. And again Bob Baird figured prominently in the night’s events. From 0045 to 0233 he found another pair of bombers, blew the tail off a Frances and burned a Betty. Baird thus raised his personal tally to five, becoming the first and only Marine Corps night fighter ace. He was also the only Okinawa night fighter pilot to score two doubles. Lieutenants Karl B. Witte and J. B. Mahoney each got a Sally during this same period.
The last kill of the 22nd belonged to 533’s skipper, “Black Mac” Magruder. He caught up with two Bettys at 2240, under the direction of Ringtail Control, and moved in from three miles to gain visual identification. At this point one of the bombers turned away, and Magruder continued his approach on the other. The skipper allowed 20 degrees deflection from five o’clock in a shallow right-hand turn, firing three bursts which set both engines afire. The Betty turned into the F6F “with murderous intent,”11 but Magruder quickly pulled up and watched his victim nose straight into the water from 14,000 feet.
During June, 542 had gained five more victories and 543 a pair, but once again 533 grabbed top honors with 15. It brought the Hellcats’ total to 58 since April. Northrop P-61s of the Army’s 548th Night Fighter Squadron “poached” three Japanese planes during the month but were never as successful as the Marines, who had more speed and better altitude performance.
The first kill of July came before dawn on the third when First Lieutenant G. P. Anderson of the Night Hawks dispatched a Tony with only 80 rounds. The other two Hellcat outfits were otherwise occupied; 533’s exec, Major S. B. Folsom, took over from Magruder on the eighth and moved the Crystal Gazers to Chimu on the 14th where they were reunited with Porter’s 542. The latter had no opportunity to score during July, and even the redoubtable 533 had to wait till mid month when Bob Baird added a sixth victim to his bag, but it was noteworthy.
Baird’s aircraft, Fox-Nan-Four, was chosen for a series of tests using 20-mm cannon in place of two of the .50-caliber machine guns. Though most new -5Ns arrived with two 20 mms and four .50s, the former were invariably removed because their flash suppressors unaccountably failed to arrive with them. Firing the cannon at night without the flash suppressors seriously impaired the pilot’s vision, hence the weapons were removed.
“When we did reinstall the 20s they were most difficult to get into correct operation,” Baird recalled. “On the day of my last kill (13 July), in which I used the 20s for the first time, I test-flew the bird and fired the guns six times before they fired without a stoppage. That was about the fifth or sixth day of working on them, and we were about to give up. Determination paid off, however, and they were magnificent.”12
Indeed they were. Under Baywood Control, Baird pursued an inbound bogey from far below, climbing at 2,000 feet per minute, then levelled off at 18,000 feet and overhauled it from eight miles astern. The Japanese pilot seemed aware of the Hellcat’s presence and took evasive action, but Baird had no trouble following the S-turns on his screen. Despite perfect weather and no clouds, Baird had to close to 100 yards in the inky darkness to verify the bogey as a Betty. It was 0441 on the 14th when, from 100 feet below the bomber, Baird fired a single three-second burst which hit both engines. Burning wildly, the Betty flew straight and level for about ten seconds, then rolled inverted and went straight down. She broke in half at about 10,000 feet.
Captain Robert Baird, flying with VMF (N) -533 at Okinawa, shot down six Japanese aircraft to become the only Marine Corps night fighter ace.
Baird found the 20 mms just as lethally effective as had his former squadron mate Bruce Porter four weeks earlier. The 533 pilot spent only 50 rounds of 20 mm and 120 rounds of .50 caliber. He described the force of this combination as “unbelievable,”13 but Baird and Porter would remain the only two Okinawa Marines to make kills with the mixed armament.
Five-Thirty-Three scored twice on the 18th and once on the 19th, but the Marine total for the month was only eight, plus one for the Army’s 548th Night Fighter Squadron. Appropriately, VMF (N) -542, which gained the first night victories for the TAF four months earlier, was also responsible for the last. Lieutenant William E. Jennings locked on to a Tony at 0308 on 8 August and sent it to destruction, the 69th confirmed kill for Marine night fighters of the Tactical Air Force.
When the score was tallied, 533 came out well on top with 35 victories, then 542 with 18, and 543 close behind with 16. The Crystal Gazers produced the top four night scorers of the campaign: Baird with six kills, then Dellamano, Hemstad, and Wellwood with three apiece.
The Okinawa Hellcats destroyed 16 Japanese aircraft types with an average expenditure of 567 rounds on each shoot-down. Again, 533 was far ahead of the pack with only 420 rounds per kill—a record which Baird attributed to the squadron’s “mod six” gunsight. Black Mac’s Killers had fully lived up to their name.
Five days after the last Marine F6F victory at Okinawa, the Navy night fighters scored their final success. The Bon Homme Richard was the fourth night carrier in combat, with Air Group 91 embarked. Night Fighting 91 included several displaced VF (N)-53 pilots who had been made homeless when Saratoga was damaged at Iwo Jima. But even with additional personnel, the pickings were fairly slim, and VF (N)-91 had claimed only five victories prior to the night of 13 August.
At 1740 that evening, two F6F-5Ns were launched on Tomcat Patrol, reporting to a destroyer-based FDO off Honshu. They were almost immediately vectored 25 miles west where the section leader, Lieutenant R. T. Kieling, called out two bogeys below.
The Night Hellcats bracketed a pair of Nicks at 4,500 feet and attacked. Kieling had four guns jam on his first burst, but he pursued his target right down to the water where it crashed and burned. His wingman, Ensign Philip T. McDonald, took out the second Nick with two bursts.
Climbing back through 4,500, McDonald saw a Frances three miles dead ahead. He closed in, burned the starboard engine, and dived to port as Kieling got in a short burst. One parachute came out at 100 feet, and the Fran crashed. A new vector put the section on another Fran coming head-on. As before, McDonald did most of the shooting, and the Japanese pilot bailed out.
These contacts occurred so quickly that the first Frances was still burning on the water when a third was seen. McDonald flamed the port engine, but the Yokosuka bomber dived into some clouds and could not be found again. It was claimed a probable.
A night Hellcat of VMF (N) -534, based at Orote Field on Guam from July 1944 to the end of the war. This photo was taken in August 1944 while wreckage of Japanese aircraft still littered the field.
Climbing once more to rejoin “Rudder” Kieling on top, Phil McDonald found yet another target—a Nick crossing two miles in front of him. He overhauled, hit it squarely, and saw it drop into the clouds at 100 feet. Looking down, Kieling also saw flames and reckoned the Nick could not have pulled out.
Before McDonald could rejoin his leader he got two more blips on his scope and, with ammunition remaining, chased them over Honshu. But Kieling recalled the aggressive young Kansan, and they returned to the ship.
It had been a night fighter’s orgy. In barely 40 minutes the two Hellcats made eight contacts, claiming five kills and a probable. Mister McDonald established an American record with four night kills on one sortie—a fitting end to the success story which was the Hellcat night fighter.
Hellcat Night Fighter Squadrons in Combat: 1944–45
