After dropping our bombs, we were hit by fighters and in the fight were set on fire. We had to bail out at an altitude of about 30,000 feet. As far as I could find out, afterwards, nine got out of the aircraft and were picked up by the Japanese. Out of the nine, only three survived, Col. King, myself and Sgt. Harold Schroeder, the right scanner.

I was picked up quickly, given a good beating by the civilians, and taken by the army to the Kempei Tai headquarters in downtown Tokyo.

Our cells were about six feet by eight. We were required to sit cross legged in the middle of the cell at attention eyes straight ahead. The cells were unheated and the winter was very cold. Our cells were always below freezing. We were not allowed to put on our shoes and socks. When the weather got, too, severe, we were allowed to wrap up in our blankets during the day. We were allowed four blankets. The blankets were small by our standards and it was difficult to keep all parts wrapped sufficiently to keep warm. I was held in solitary confinement in that prison and one more in the Tokyo area.

While in the cells, we were fed a small amount of rice each day and, sometimes, a small piece of fish. In the four months of solitary confinement, I dropped from 175 pounds to about 90 pounds. We were very hungry all the time and our minds dwelled on food day and night.

I was interrogated quite often the first three months . I was questioned about the B29. I had quite a few beatings by sticking with name, rank and serial number until I saw, by accident, our own tech orders on the B29. They knew the airplane pretty well. Where they got the tech orders, I never knew.

We got to be great liars in our interrogations but being caught in a lie would result in a beating. The guards would beat on us quite often and had many ways to make life completely miserable. Twice, I was taken to an airfield where they had a captured B17. I was supposed to show them how to fly it. I gave them everything backwards, low rpm, fuel mixtures in auto lean, booster pumps off, cowl flaps closed, everything backwards to the proper procedure. They had some good airplanes of their own, so I couldn't imagine them buying my instructions, but they wrote everything down, drew diagrams, and we all went away happy.

On April 3, 1945, I, with Col. King and Sgt. Schroeder, was taken to Omori prison camp, which was located on a fill in Tokyo Bay and halfway between Tokyo and Yokahama. Treatment was a little better and we got a little more food. There were 36 of us in the barracks. We were, mainly, B29 people but we had a navy pilot, a marine pilot and a B24 pilot, who was shot down on his last mission over China.

As we were B29 personnel, who had bombed the homeland, were held as special prisoners. We were held under guard day and night and were never allowed out in the main camp to mingle with the other prisoners. Our food ration was only half of the ration of the other prisoners.

Later in the spring, we were taken out to work. We cleared the ground of bombed out buildings and planted gardens. The work was hard and some of the guards were difficult. Being special prisoners, we knew we had not been reported as POWs. Our families were never told anything other than we were MIA. One japanese officer told me that they had heard, through the Red Cross, that my wife had been killed in an auto accident. I didn't believe it but it was a worrisome bit of news, false as it turned out.

Air raids were increasing and we could see the daily results of the bombings and the fire raids. The country side was being completely devastated. Our knowledge of the outside world was practically zero. The regular prisoners would try to talk through the wall that separated us and give us a little information. We knew when President Roosevelt died and about the invasion of Okinawa. We, also, heard a lot of rumors. We hung onto every piece of news, rumor or not.

We did not know of the atomic bomb but, after it was dropped, we we noticed that some of our guards were more vicious while others were more kindly. The day the war was ended, we were lined up to be taken out to work. We were stopped by the headquarters building by the camp gate. Inside, we could see the Japanese girls, who worked there, crying. Some of the regular prisoners came by and gave us the thumbs up sign that it was all over.

We were still not allowed to get out into the camp even though the war was over. It was another week before we were released from our special confinement, but we knew it was over and that we had survived.

The B29s started to drop food to us. We were all suffering from beri beri, dysentery, jaundice and malnutrition with it's related diseases. The food dropped by the B29s saved lives.

Two weeks after the war was over, we were evacuated and taken to a hospital ship. I was flown to an army hospital on Guam, then to the Letterman Hospital in San Francisco and finally to Baxter Hospital in Spokane, which is near my home.

After several month in the hospital and on convalescent leave it was back to active duty and the whole experience was a bad dream.

We all came out of it with a greater appreciation of our freedoms and of what the country really means. I treasure good friends made in camp but a POW will never forget what it means to lose one's freedom.

We all experienced highs and lows although the lows were more frequent than the highs. My lowest moment was when I was in my fourth month of solitary confinement. I was informed that I had been tried and convicted and would be executed. Twice I was taken out to the firing squad and twice I was returned to my cell. That was the last I heard of my trial but it was a scary thing. Being cold and hungry all the time and locked in a small cell, sleeping on a bare floor, is a low. Being told your wife was killed was a low.

There was one great high. We had to put time on the honey bucket brigade. It was hard heavy work. My good friend, Hap Halloran, and I were hauling partners. One day, a mean guard was walking beside the completely full ten gallon bucket. It was always necessary to walk out of step to keep the bucket from bouncing up, and down, on a flimsy bamboo pole. This guard had been beating our legs with a club, so Hap and I started walking in step. Sure enough, the bucket started to bounce and, sure enough, the pole broke and, sure enough, the whole load went all over the guard. The Japanese civilians around laughed. It made our day.

Click here to read the Missing Crew Report

This POW/MIA Ring site is owned by Jen Site ID#275 [ Next | Previous | Skip | Random Site ] [ List Sites | Stats | MessageBoard | Join ] Proud Member of the POW/MIA Freedom Fighters. Get a POW/MIA Honor Page of your own.

This World War II site owned by Jen [ Next | Previous | Skip | Random Site ] [ List Sites | Stats | Join ]