The following are stories as told by the men who experienced them while living on Tinian. I only wish that there was room for all of them as each one is as important as all the others. I am sure they will bring back many memories to service men of their own service time and experiences. Enjoy!
The 24th of Dec.1944 should go down in history as the Night of the Pig and Goat Kill.
It was the first night on the island of Tinian for the 504th and 505th B.G. We were told not to leave our area because there were hundreds of Japanese still at large on the island.
As night fell, each of us knew that we were in for a fire fight. The guards were posted, and those of us not on guard duty went to bed in our tents.
Suddenly a shot rang out, then another on the other side of our area, and then a volley from all over, then silence. A short while later, the nervous guards started shooting again. So went the night! The next day, Christmas, I heard that we killed several pigs and goats.
The Marines camped about a quarter mile away were most unhappy with us green Army Air Force flyboys and started really shooting just to see how worked up we could get.
We were thus introduced to the "terror of combat".
As we all know, our squadron had four eight holer outhouses.
To keep them sort of odor free, each day a combination of oil and gasoline was dumped into them. They were then lighted by tossing a piece of burning paper into them. By evening, the fires were out and all four were ready for use.
The 421st had a troop assigned to handle this detail. One day he put in the oil and gasoline, but didn't have any matches. Rather than have the lids raised while he went for matches, he simply went for matches with no indication that, the latrine was charged with the gas/oil explosive mixture below. One of the key company clerks, a sgt with thick body hair, felt nature's call and went to the latrine and sat down.
The latrine orderly returned and said nothing to the clerk. He lit his paper and tossed it into the pit. The now partially hairless sgt.went through the door and landed on the coral on his hands and knees. He was very angry. He went to the barracks for his carbine.
The orderly decided to shove off and wasn't seen for several days while he holed up with some Seabees. The names of those involved have been left out for obvious reasons.
I recall that, on one occasion, the powers that be thought it would be a good idea to provide real hen's eggs to the combat crews prior to a strike against the Japanese Empire. Good for morale! Accordingly, shortly after midnight we were standing in line in the mess hall next to the stacked sides of Australian mutton, waiting our turn to have our "FRESH" eggs individually prepared.
When it came my turn, the cook cracked the eggs on the griddle and a chicken embryo emerged.
Needless to say, that killed my appetite!
Someone described humor as the mind trying to handle two extremes at one time. An incident from my stay on Tinian comes to mind that meets that criterion when viewed from hindsight.
History has revealed that the 504th was instrumental in developing tactics for dropping naval mines and was the lead group of that campaign, which involved only the 313th Wing of which we were one of the four groups, the others being the 6th, 9th, and 315th.
One day five or six of us armorers were sitting among and/or on top of a pile of Naval mines, waiting for loading instructions. These mines represented something new and unfamiliar to us. Naval mines were fairly new on the island, and we armorers were not real sure just how the detonators worked.
We were discussing, either from instruction or scuttle-but, the mine's instability during handling and just how, when, and where its arming and timing devices would be put into operation.
To say the least, we wre very apprehensive at this stage about getting them onto a bomb rack. We had, had discussions as to the possibilities of accidental or premature arming that would cause them to explode.
During a lull in the conversation a definite, rhythmic tick, tick, tick, came to our ears. Without a word being spoken, our eyeballs bulged as the entire group exploded off the mines and hit the ground running at super speed toward a pile of coral rock and fell behind its protection.
We crouched there to catch our breath and wait for the explosion! When nothing happened after a few minutes or so, we cautiously approached the pile of mines to find an identification tag being whirled in the wind on its wire attachment, thus making a very real sounding clocklike tick. As extreme fear gave way to extreme relief, everyone begian to laugh!
I was told later by amused observers after I had changed my soiled clothes, that there was only one man of the group who ran on dry ground, reached the coral first, and had stood waving and shouting encouragement for the others to make it.
I still chuckle when I recall that serious and yet funny wartime event after these many elapsed years!
An interesting, lighter side incident took place one night on Tinian while I was playing poker in the mess hall. We all heard someone hollering periodically but paid little attention to it as we were concentrating on the game. We just assumed that someone had gotten drunk and was making a commotion.
Next morning we hearned that someone had been drinking all right and had fallen into an excavation that had been made for a new latrine. It was rather deep and had vertical sides. The victim had not been able to climb out.
He was not seiously hurt but he spent an uncomfortable night. Fortunately for him, the latrine pit was not yet in use!
The supply of alcoholic spirits was strictly limited for enlisted personnel by the military. Drinking whiskey was hard to come by and very expensive on Tinian. We had to use ingenuity in securing alcoholic spirits for our needs. We imporvised and used ingenuity to produce our own brands of nerve relaxing beverages. This is how I learned how to produce "RAISIN JACK".
A few days after arriving on Tinian Island, some of us went exploring. We were told, of course, not to do this. It was dangerous. There might be holdout Japanese troops in the area. It could be hazardous to your health. We went anyway.
Returning to our campsite one day, we encountered some heavily armed black infantrymen with a flat bed truck. We noticed that there were three Japanese corpses lying on the truck's bed. The soldiers were taking the bodies to a Japanese cemetery. We visited with the black enlisted men. They told us that it was their mission to secure the area. There were still several hundred hold-out Japanese troops hading on the island. One of the troops was grinning and drinking from his canteen. He offered Robards and me a drink of whatever it was that tasted so good. Before drinking the contents, we asked what was so great about whatever the canteen held. He said that it was full of RAISIN JACK and that it was mighty good. We wondered what RAISIN JACK was. I took a swig. The liquid burned all the way down my throat. After taking a swallow there seemed to be a fly in my mouth. I spat it out. The trooper laughed and said, "don't worry, it is only a raisin. It is pure stuff. We made it ourselves". Our sample tasted so good that Robards and I ended up trading our canteens and a dollar apiece for two full canteens of this RAISIN JACK refreshment. The black troops gave us the recipe for making this delicious beverage.
Ed Robards and I scrounged a supply of raisins, sugar, and yeast from a friendly cook after we had to agree to split 10% of the product with him. We liberated a couple of five gallon woooden nail kegs and soaked them in water to make them more waterproof so they wouldn't leak our precious elixir. We made our first batch of RAISIN JACK. It was a treat to watch it develop in the barrels. It bubbled furiously, After a few days, we decided it was ready to bottle. The only bottles we could find were empty whiskey bottles that officers discarded. Officers were allowed to join a whiskey pool and received one bottle of booze each week.
We bottled our potent liquid and put the bottles on a rack in our tent. We sampled some and found it to be plenty "POTENT!" That night, about 2 in the morning, we were awakened by popping sounds and the strong smell of alcohol in our tent. Every four or five minutes, we heard more cracking and sizzling sounds. Our RAISIN JACK was breaking the bottles and leaking all over the place. We got busy and salvaged what was left by putting the fluid back in the kegs. The RAISIN JACK brew had not finished brewing. This caused the bottles to explode. Our recipe didn't warn about this production problem.
After making two or three batches, we became experts in brewing genuine RASIN JACK. Our tour of duty while on Tinian was enhanced by the excellent beverage we discovered.
One day while we were still housed in tents, Frank Colson, one of our crewmen, asked if it was okay to take a couple of bottle of our own brewed RAISIN JACK drinking liquor with him while visiting a friend in the Seabees that he had just met. I said, "Sure, go ahead and take along a couple of bottles".
Later in the evening, when we were in our sacks, we heard Colson say,"Wake up you guys and meet my friend". We lit one of our beer bottle lamps to make some light in the tent. Colson introduced us to his Seabee friend, Chief Petty Officer Dan Toner.
I asked Dan if he was from Walla Walla, Washinton. He said that he was. I asked him if he lived in the same block as M.P.Casseday in the early 1920's. Dan relied that yes he was a neighbor of Mr. Casseday. M.P. Casseday happened to be my uncle. I remembered that I had met Dan when I visited my cousins in Walla Walla. I remembered Dan from those visits.
I always seem to meet someone from Walla Walla, no matter where I went. Dan Toner became a good friend of our crew. He was the commissary steward of his naval unit and was in charge of the Seabee mess. When Dan knew that we were going on a mission, he would come to our hardstand in a Seabee jeep with special food for us. There would be canned turkey, canned pineapple, and other goodies. His food sure beat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that the Army mess hall funished for flight lunches.
When we returned from a mission, Dan would visit our Quonset with a five gallon can of ice cream which we shared with the other crews. On occasion, I ate at the Seabee mess. Without a doubt, they served the findest food on the island.
One of the scarcest commodoties on Tinian was ice. The hot, tropical weather made a cool drink a luxury. Our Seabee friends had an ice machine obtained from somewhere. We learned that there was nothing that the Seabees couldn't make, fix, or procure. Dan gave me a key to their ice machine which was kept locked at all times. Its product was very valuable to us. We had an insulated five gallon container in our Quonset in which we kept our ice, cokes, RAISIN JACK, and best of all-lime aid. Limes grew on the island and were plentiful. We enjoyed this special treat.
After the war, Dan visited my home and we talked about our Tinian experiences. My friend Dan passed away in 1970.
Strong liquid refreshment was hard to come by for enlisted personnel on Tinian. Island. We were issued a beer ration card which permitted us to buy one can of beer each day at the PX. they would punch your card each time you procured a beer and opened it so that you couldn't stockpile for a better party. The beer was warm and spouted like "Old Faithful" when opened. You were lucky to end up with half a can after the spouting ended.
After being on Tinian a couple of months, we enlisted members of combat crews were still living in eight man squad tents. even though we were supposed to be housed in Quonset huts. On one particular night that I remember, all my tentmates had gone to the movie showing at our outdoor theater. I happened to go to the PX which was housed in a Quonset hut. As I entered the PX, I noticed a jeep parked out front loaded with cases of beer. The officers were getting ready for a big party. I noticed three officers who had loaded the beer in the jeep still inside the PX. They were spinning tall tales while drinking beer.
It was very dark outside. Somehow, the devil got inside my mind and gave me a wicked temptation. Since the officers were busy having a good time and were in no big hurry to leave, I went outside and grabbed a case of beer under each arm and ran about a hundred yards up a nearby ditch with a row of trees along each side. I dropped the two cases in the tall grass in the ditch and jogged back down to the PX. I checked on the officers. They were still enjoying their beer. I decided to haul a couple more cases to my cache. I liberated two more cases and struggled up the ditch. I was becoming winded, but made it to my cache spot and made sure all four cases were pretty well concealed.
I circled around the War Room and went to the theater where I found my tentmates and some friends from other crews. I told them about my good luck. At first none of them believed me. I urged them to join me in enjoying my liberation efforts. They decided to join me. We worked our way back to my stashed beer hoard. After kicking around in the tall grass, we located all four cases. Now, where to have a party? Someone remembered a new shower building that was under construction but not in use. We stealthily moved our cases to the security of the new building. Eighteen or twenty of us partied on 96 cans of beer until early morning. We had a fine, but very quiet party.
The next morning, while we were all in our sacks, Major Barrowclough, our squadron commander, and a couple of officers visited out tent. We jumped to attention and stood by as the group carefully inspected our tent. They found nothing. Troops in the other tents were innocent and knew nothing about the reason for the search. "WE KNEW"!
The remains of our party were discovered a couple of days later but nothing ever came of it. I consider this event one of the highlights of my tenure on Tinian.
Since our B-29's were manufactured at three different places- Boeing in Wichita, Kansas, Martin in Omaha, Nebraska, and Bell in Marietta, Georgia, their configurations varied slightly from plane to plane.
One of these differences was the function of the switches on the pilot's aisle stand. In SILVER LADY, our crew's airplane, the aisle stand had five switches in a row, four of which controlled the propeller rpm's plus one other switch which controlled the navigation lights.
Another model B-29 had six switches in a row. The sixth switch controlled the landing lights. SILVER LADY was out of commission for one of our Tokyo raids. We were assigned another aircraft. I failed to note the difference in aisle switches in our assigned B-29
The raid plan was for each airplane to attack singly at night, one minute and 100 feet apart. While over the target and hoping that we could avoid being observed by the Japanese defenses, my tail gunner reported that the B-29 behind us was too close and was overtaking us.
I elected to warn him off by flashing my navigation lights. I reached over and flicked the last switch in the row. Our landing lights came on instead of the navigation light. Almost instantly one of our crew came on the intercom and shouted,
When we first landed on the Island of Tinian we airmen were issued shelter halves. A fellow 504th named Aaron Cohen and I, using our best Boy Scout knowledge, put our tent halves together and picked a slight knoll as the site for our abode thereby providing drainage away from the tent. We thought that this was a very logical choice for location.
During that first night on the island, we realized that the center ground area covered by our tent had too much crown for comfortable sleeping. The next morning we began levelling off the mound in the center of our tent.
As we did this, horrible odors began to permeate the tent. Very shortly we dug into some clothing and realized that we had uncovered a dead Japanese body hurriedly buried during the island's capture.
We never regretted moving that tent!
After the war was over, the 504th Bomb Group was delegated to fly supplies to the prisoners of war. The supplies were n 500 lb boxes attached to parachutes and contained medical supplies, food, candy, tobacco, clothing, and other items the POWs might need.
The day of this particular mission, our airplane commander was a captain by the name of Hardebeck.
When we reached Japan, we couldn't find the POW camp because the map coordinates suplied us by the Japanese were very inaccurate. Capt.Hardebeck told me that we were not going to take the supplies back to Tinian and for me to find some place to drop them.
While we were flying around at a very low altitude, I sighted an open field and told the Capt. that I would drop the supplies there. I dropped the boxes from one bomb-bay and suddenly people appeared out of nowhere on the ground running to retrieve the supplies.
One Japanese lady was standing on the ground waving a huge straw hat at us like we were old lost friends. I asked the Capt. to make one more pass over the field and I would drop the other bomb-bay's load.
As we made the second pass over the field, I dropped the remainder of the boxes. The people on the ground scattered like flies when they saw the boxes descending from the sky on them.
One of the boxes hung up in the bomb-bay and wouldn't release from its rack. We were flying very low approaching a farm, which obviously had no plumbing because we could see the outhouse. As we approached the farm, a light on my instrument panel signaled that the box had released from the bomb-bay.
Our flight engineer, Jim Hunter, had been looking out of his window and turned around and laughingly announced that the last box had made a direct hit on the outhouse. The outhouse was observed to explode into a million pieces.
As we left the area, Jim could see the farmer on the ground looking up at us and shaking his fist, Had I been trying, I couldn't have hit the outhouse in a million years. I have wondered if anyone was in it.
They say "War is hell!" Nothing could have been worse than to die in an outhouse after the war was over. Killed by a box of POW supplies!
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