Mission Complete
By Authur Miller

"You'll see the damndest show you ever saw in your life; it will be just like a big Fourth
of July with Roman candles and all the fireworks." Colonel Dougherty paused a bit and
grinned. His audience, all of the available combat crews of the 500th Group, laughed uncer-
tainly and somewhat nervously.

It was 9 March 1945, the place: Group Briefing Room, the time: mid-afternoon, the
scene: briefing for the first fire raid on Tokyo.

Everyone in the big Quonset, tightly packed with perspiring young men, listened closely
as Major Parsons mounted the rostrum and gave the details of the mission. It was to be a
maximum effort of the entire Bomber Command, going in as individual ships at night, carrying
full loads of incendiaries, at 5000 feet bombing altitude. A gasp went up from the audience as
the altitude was announced--the crew members looked around at each other and shook their
heads wordlessly. Then a little buzz of conversation went up, punctuated with profanity.

S-2 followed Operations and gave all the available dope on the target, the expected flak
and fighter opposition and the Air-Sea Rescue facilities. Weather was next and then the
Flight Surgeon. After that, the meeting broke up for specialized briefing where the individual
crew members received the necessary technical data.

It was a sober group of combat crews who walked slowly back to their Quonsets after
the briefing. "Over Tokyo at 5000 feet"--it was inconceivable, beyond comprehension. "What
would they think of next?" mused more than one as he got his gear together and prepared
to entruck for the flying line. Minds slowly reviewed the previous three months, December,
January, and February when the 73rd Wing was fighting the Battle Over Japan alone, when
enemy fighters were thick as flies in an uncovered latrine, when flak was black and accurate,
when crew after crew heartbreakingly ditched hundreds of miles from home with little hope
of rescue. Crew members recalled December 3rd when Colonel King, Major Goldsworthy
and their crew had been shot out of the sky over Tokyo, when Barney Hurlbutt and Big
Frank Roberts had plunged in over Nagoya, when Chico Carrico had come all the way home
on two engines on January 27th. They remembered when General "Ironpants" Lemay had
come over from India to take over the Bomber Command and immediately started lowering
the bombing altitude. They remembered the barracks charts drawn up to show the life
expectancy of a combat crew--and that expectancy was mighty low--some said that 17
missions were all a man could hope for before boarding the barge on the River Styx.

Trucks came by the bivouac area while it was still broad daylight. The planes were fit,
Maintenance having worked night and day to get them into commission. The bombs were
aboard--both bombbays crammed full of incendiaries. A red sun was fast going down into
the horizon as each crew gathered to put on their flying gear and then to climb into the planes.
Already the other groups were taking off, using both runways. Each 50 seconds another pilot
pushed forward the throttles and fought his plane into the air.

Then it was time for the 500th and slowly the big "Z" ships jockeyed into position, lined
up, and roared off, leaving behind a strangely empty airfield and a quiet group of stay-at-homes.

Straight out over the choppy Pacific they went, dipping down out of sight when leaving
landsend--then rising slowly and turning gradually to Marpi Point and distant Tokyo. Inside
the Superforts, the crews settled down to their routine tasks.  Especially busy were the
navigators, many of whom for the first time had to find their way to the target and back
without help from accompanying ships in a formation. With the exception of the man in the
tail, most gunners had been left behind because orders were to carry ammunition in the rear
turret only.

To the uninitiated, it may be stated without equivocation that it is a mighty long road
from Saipan to Tokyo over a mighty wide and deep ocean. Cruising along, all alone except
for occasional glimpses of running lights from other planes, the crews felt lonely and a million