Two Hot Shot Crewmembers on This B-29

Shone in picture is Randy the Tail Gunner
Abs is the Central Fire Control.


All gun sights were computer operated.
This was in 1945

Oh No That Long Ago


The B-29 tail gunner's day begins in earnest the moment he hears the heavy "click" that precedes an announce-ment over the public address speakers that reach every corner of his air base on Guam.
Until that moment he had been writing letters, eating lunch, playing softball or visiting the base PX. But that strong sound, and the loud message that follows, immediately causes him to drop whatever he is doing.
"Attention, attention" the voice says. "The following crews are alerted for a mission. Report to the briefing tent at 19:00 hours." One by one, the names and numbers of the crews are read off. The gunner hears his called out: "Crew Number 12, Captain Heath."
With hours to spare before the briefing, the gunner and his crew mates make their way to the flight line, where their B-29 waits in its paved revetment. Men are clambering all about the big machine: mechanics making last-minute engine adjustments, ordinance men towing a train of deadly 500-pound bombs to be winched into the bomber's cavernous bomb bays; trucks pumping thousands of gallons of aviation fuel into the wing tanks.
The tail gunner removes long belts of 50-caliber ammunition from wooden boxes and stretches them out on the ground. He makes sure that each round is clean and properly aligned. Then he hauls his ammunition box up the rear entrance ladder and into the aircraft. He moves toward the tail with his burden, hunches down as the space narrows, then crawls to the metal ammunition containers located at the sides of the narrow space, just forward of his tail compartment. It is hot work inside the bomber, layering the belts into the rectangular containers.
He feeds the end of each belt into the tracks of rollers that lead under his pressurized tail compartment and into the separate turret bearing his twin machine guns. That done, he crawls through a round door into the compartment itself and rises to his feet. The compartment is six feet high and four feet square. Behind him is a seat that can be slid down a rack and unfolded. His one-man life raft pack forms the cushion of the seat. There are windows at each side and a thick slab of bullet-proof Plexiglas in the front. His General Electric gun sight, a pivoting instrument that remotely controls his gun turret, stands on a shelf in front of him.
After checking that his high-altitude bail-out oxygen bottle, flak suit, flak vest and life raft are all in place, the gunner
climbs down from the bomber and makes his way to the tail. There he mounts a ladder and uses a screwdriver to remove the covers on his turret, revealing the two, 50-caliber guns. He opens their lids and slides the belts of ammunition along their tracks. He fits the first round into each gun, then closes the lids. The guns are loaded "hot;" he actuates the weapon with his screwdriver, slamming the first round into the firing chamber. It is a ticklish moment, for rounds have been known to fire prematurely in a gunner's face. With the weapons ready to fire, he replaces the turret covers, shifts his ladder, and reaches up to polish the windows of his compartment until they gleam.
His work completed, the gunner looks at the setting sun and wonders where he will be at the same time tomorrow. Safely back at the base? In a Japanese prison camp? Dead or wounded? Drifting at sea in a life raft? He tells himself that he will return unharmed and offers a prayer that he will.
Back in their Quonset hut the gunner and his friends pull on their long zippered flight suits and began assembling their equipment: parachute h arnesses, chest parachutes, inflatable Mae West life vests, light helmets with earphones, oxygen masks, throat microphones, orange-tinted sunglasses, and large sheath knives to hang from their belts.
To this they add light nylon survival vests whose pockets are filled with shark repellent, fishhooks and fishline, signaling mirrors, a map of Japan, a tube of morphine. Our gunner adds one more item: a length of parachute cord to be hung from the neck of his gun sight, ready for use as a tourniquet should he be wounded in his remote compartment.
Then it is off to the briefing tent, where the gunner's crew joins dozens of others sprawled on rows of benches. In front of them is a large map. The Japanese home islands slant across the top. Fifteen hundred miles to the south are the Marianas Islands. A red line stretches from his base on Guam to the city of Nagoya. Tomorrow's target is the Mitsubishi Aircraft factory, a well-defended bit of real estate in Japan's second-largest city.
After the briefing the tail gunner and his fellow crewmen board an army truck and are carried to the flight line. Seated on the hard benches at the sides of the truck they say little, or make feeble jokes. They unload and haul their equipment into the bomber. The tail gunner's job is to start the "putt-putt," a small gasoline engine that provides power for the aircraft's systems before the four main engines are started. It leaps to life and becomes the fifth generator on the aircraft, helping power the motors that close the bomb bays and retract the landing gear and wing flaps.
Time now to climb down from the bomber to team up with other crew members to pull the four-bladed propellers down and through so as to remove any accumulated oil from the lower cylinders. Two men per blade, they pull it through, push it up, then return to grab another. The process goes on until each blade is pushed through a dozen times.
"The City of College Park" (GA) on Guam in 1945, from top left: Capt. Talmadge Heath, AC; Lt. Charles Menke, pilot; Lt. George Walker, navigator; Lt. Paul Klenk, bombardier; M.Sgt. Donald Hutchison, flight engineer. Bottom row, from the left: Andy Doty, tail gunner; Tech. Sgt. Abraham Veroba, central fire control gunner; Staff. Sgt. Donald Cox, radio operator; Staff Sgt. Jim Dudley, right waist gunner; and Staff Sgt. Rea Schuessler, left waist gunner. Radar operator Herbert Kestenbaum is not pictured. Walker and Hutchison perished on the crew's fifteenth mission.
The tail gunner returns to his tail position for the take-off. The first propellers begin to turn, ever so slowly. The engine coughs to life, spews smoke, and settles into a steady roar. The other engines follow as a ground crewman stands by with a fire extinguisher. Then comes one of war's most dramatic scenes: dozens of heavy bombers inching out of their revetments, falling into line and edging toward the head of the runway in a long, powerful parade. The night air is filled with noise and fumes.
Cleared to take off, the B-29's engines roar as the pilot stands on the brakes, then releases them. It is "pucker time," that dangerous moment when the temperamental engines have to haul a B-29 laden with bombs, fuel, ammunition and men into the air. The bomber lumbers down the runway, engines roaring, the crew hunched tensely inside. The loss of an engine at this point would be fatal. The big plane slowly accelerates, lifts into the air, then sags over the edge of the cliff at the end of the runway to gain even more air speed. Seated in the rear, the tail gunner watches the other bombers, the runway, the cliff and the island disappear from sight. After a time he test fires his machine guns and returns to the center compartment to join the radar man and his fellow gunners.
Up front, the Earl Johnsons, the Jack Caldwells and the Sandy Emells of the B-29 program are busy with their highly-specialized duties as pilot, flight engineer and navigator. The gunners settle in for the six hour flight to Japan. They take turns watching the engines for smoke or oil, and they listen to news and music from the Armed Forces Radio Network. Some try to nap in the dark radar room, using their chest chutes as pillows, and others visit the crew members up front.
Three hours out, they pass over Iwo Jima, the halfway point. Just taken by the Marines at terrible cost, Iwo already is a haven for bombers that are damaged, low on fuel or have wounded aboard. Their crews are eternally grateful to the Marines for what they did.
An hour from Japan, the tail gunner returns to his compartment and his B-29 begins climbing to its bombing altitude of 26,000 feet. He plugs in his ear phones and throat mike, puts on his oxygen mask and sun glasses, and adds his flak helmet and vest. He turns on his gun sight and reports to the pilot that he is in position and ready. He watches as their bomber joins dozens of others circling at an assembly point off the coast of Japan.
Tail gunner compartment
Then it is on to the target in a long bomber stream. Craning his head to look out his side window, the gunner sees the coast of Japan appear beneath the wing. The land looks dark and foreboding. They continue on in a tight formation, hit their turning point, turn and head for their target. Machine guns sound up front as Japanese fighters attack and flash through the formation. The gunner watches constantly, squinting into the distance as the formation bores ahead. Soon the first ugly black puffs of antiaircraft fire appear, then intensify until the
sky is filled with their explosions The B-29s fly steadily onward on a bomb run from which it cannot deviate. The bombardier calls out "bombs away" and the plane surges upward, relieved of its burden. Looking down, the gunner sees explosions twinkling in the target area like strings to tiny Chinese fire crackers. The formation wheels and heads back out to sea to begin the long ride home.
Suddenly a twin-engine fighter ducks out of a cloud bank and turns toward the B-29. The tail gunner sees him and quickly enters the fighter's wingspan into his gun sight. He grasps a knob on the left side of the sight to pivot and elevate the sight and the turret below. With his right hand knob he expands the circle of dots on the view glass until they enclose the fighter's wing tips. He slowly widens the circle as the fighter bores in. He opens fire at the same time as the fighter, pressing a button with his right thumb to space the gun bursts. He fires forty rounds a minute in bursts of six to nine seconds. The enemy's tracers float past his compartment, as if in slow motion; the gunner's bullets smash into the fighter's right engine, sending parts of the wing and engine flying. The enemy breaks off his attack and banks downward, black smoke trailing behind. The B-29 continues on.
An hour later the bomber drops to a lower altitude and the gunner returns to the waist cabin. It is a happy moment; they are "Flying Home," the crew unwinding, sun streaming in the windows, engines purring at reduced power on a long range descent. They pass by Iwo and then Saipan. Shortly afterward the tail gunner starts the putt-putt and returns to his position for the landing at Guam. They touch down and breathe a sign of relief. As they taxi to their revetment, he opens his window to let in the soft warm air as the tail gently rises and falls.
Another mission is over. A few days to a week later, the tail gunner and his crew will repeat the process, taking part in one of the terrifying low-level fire raids on a Japanese city or a mission against a petroleum refinery or an air field. Each time they will listen beforehand for the click of the base PA system, and each time they will wonder where they are going and how they will fare.
- Andy DotyADotyb29@aol.com www.wwIIbombercrew.com
Fixing tail gun after a mission
To read more about Andy's fascinating experiences as a tailgunner in World War II, get a copy of his book, Backwards Into Battle", something every young person should read. To get more information on the book, please click here.