Bomb-Happy Yanks

H ow Apia Officials Fell Victim To Irresoonsible Airmen In 1942

By C. Philipp

ON the evening of January 20, 1942, a distress message was intercepted on the international wavelength of 600 metres by the operator on duty at the Apia radio station. The message appeared to originate from a plane using what was thought to be an Australian call-sign, and stated that the plane was making a forced landing on the sea at a position approximately 120 miles north of Fagamalo, Savaii Island, Western Samoa.

A fact which somewhat puzzled the authorities was the irregular procedure employed by the aircraft in transmitting the message, but under circumstances of war, the suspicious nature of the signal was overlooked and arrangements were made to proceed to the position given.

Radio equipment, petrol and food, etc., were loaded on a launch, and a party of Government officials consisting of the Harbourmaster, the Secretary of Native Affairs, a police officer, a radio technician, and a senior radio telegraphist embarked before dawn for Savaii Island where later in the day they transhipped aboard a Government pilot launch more suitable for the long trip.

The crew consisted, of the captain, the engineer and one sailor. Radio-tele graphic communication between Apia radio and the pilot-launch was held at half-hourly intervals from the time of their departure until approximately 4 p.m. on January 22, when the party reported that they had arrived in the vicinity of the position given by the plane.

At. 4.30 the launch failed to make con tact with Apia radio, and for two hours repeated calls brought no reply.

The strange silence was broken after'' 6 p.m. when the launch came in and sig nalled: “Have been attacked by plane. All well. Returning now.”

The half-hourly radio schedules were resumed but no details of the attack were given.

On the morning of the following day, the launch reported that another plane was approaching and that the party was

preparing for a second attack. Ten minutes later the operator reported that the plane had passed out of range with out sighting them. By mid-afternoon the party arrived safely at Fagamalo.

Pearing to travel by day they waited till nightfall before proceeding to Apia.

The remainder of the trip was unevent ful and. the party landed at Apia before dawn on the 24th.

The account of the trip created a sen sation in the township. During the day crowds gathered on the wharf to gaze with amazement at the bullet-riddled launch and listen to a story that had been retold many times in a spectacular manner by the crew. The account runs as follows: DURING the afternoon of January 22 a sharp look-out was kept as the vessel approached its destination, but nothing indicating the presence of the disabled aircraft was sighted. Soon after radio contact with Apia at 4 p.m., Mr. Blakeloqk, the police officer, an nounced that he could hear the distant drone of a plane. Within a matter of a few minutes an aircraft was seen ap proaching. The launch’s engine was dis engaged and left idling. At first there were certain misgivings about the plane’s nationality, but when the markings under the wings identified it as an American aircraft everyone experienced relief and began waving as it circled overhead.

Two men-, wearing aviator’s goggles, occupied the cockpits. Obviously one was the pilot and the other was the gunner.

But despite friendly demonstrations from the launch the airmen appeared to re-gard it with suspicion. The gunner could be seen training his machine-gun while they continued circling at a height of approximately 70 feet.

Presently the plane began morsing a message to the launch by means of an electric torch. Jimmy James, the senior radio telegraphist, read the flashes.

The message enquired after the nation ality, the port of origin and the vessel’s destination. Employing the same method, Jimmy replied with the required informa tion.

The communication completed, it was expected that the fliers would become more sociable, but when the torch flashed from above it imparted a message that confounded all understanding. It was unbelievable that the words were “Aban don ship.” Why should the airmen order them to abandon the launch? It seemed more logical that the message was meant to read “Abandon search.”

An argument ensued and Jimmy was induced to ask the plane for a repetition.

Again the torch flashed, and this time there was no mistake.

A stunned silence fell upon the group.

Never in their minds had they enter tained the possibility of anything like this occurring. It was a set-up that seemed beyond the bounds of credulity —and yet the roar of the circling plane could not be denied. It was a sound now menacing and ominous.

RECOVERING partly from the effect of mental shock, the party launched the vessel’s dinghy, capable of ac commodating three persons. The oldest men entered the dinghy while the remain der plunged into the sea and clung to various objects that had been thrown overboard to serve as floats.

The weather was fine and the ocean calm. The vessel’s engine was still idling, and as they moved away from her the seriousness of their predicament pressed heavily upon them, like the shadow of doom. Very few words were spoken till a distance of about 100 yards lay between them and the launch.

Here the nine men huddled together as they turned their eyes upon the plane and the little launch now riding placidly like a painted ship on a painted ocean.

In a few minutes it would be destroyed.

And when this was accomplished, what then?

Would the mad airmen stop with this or would they decide to finish them off in cold blood? It was a terrifying thought that strained their nerves to breaking point.

The plane described a wide circle and climbed to a greater height. Then flying directly in line with the launch, it swooped down and released a bomb which struck the sea and exploded some fifty feet from the target. Repeating the manoeuvre, a second bomb was dropped.

But evidently the fliers were amateurs in this game. The bomb landed no nearer to the target than did the first one. Hav ing thus exhausted their supply of bombs, the airmen commenced to strafe the vessel with explosive bullets. rE minutes seemed like hours as they watched the progress of these activi ties. Under the strain of nervous tension one of the older men on the dinghy cracked up. Producing a pocket knife, with the purpose of committing suicide, he cried: “By God! I can endure this no longer!” But he was restrained before he could use it. One of the other senior men, with tears in his eyes, made what he believed to be his last speech, requesting that should any of the others reach Apia alive they were to convey a message to his wife and family.

McLaughlan, the radio technician, re lated afterwards that during those moments of waiting all the years of his young life flashed before him with an understanding such as he had never ex perienced before.

Thus in a spirit of resignation they gave themselves up to their fate. And yet it would seem as though Providence had meant that no harm should come to any of them on that day.

Wisps of smoke were rising from the launch, and the airmen, believing that they had done a good job, discontinued

the strafing. The final moment had come. Flying no more than twenty feet above the sea, the plane headed directly toward them. Some of the men watched it approach, but others chose to close their eyes.

Then, instead of the burst of machine gun fire and the hot sting of bullets, a voice was heard yelling above the din of the motor: “Sorry, boys! Cheerio!”

In a few minutes the plane disappeared in the distance, leaving the small party dazed and alone in the golden glow of a tropical sunset.

IT was close to six o’clock when the party returned aboard the launch and found a small fire in the engine room. The deck and the sides were rid dled with bullets.

Evidently the sacks of copra, carried in the hold for ballast, had prevented most of the bullets from penetrating the bottom of the vessel. Damage to the en gine was not serious, and within twenty •minutes repairs were effected, the engine started, and the dash for home com menced. The radio equipment was also repaired and contact was made at once with Apia radio.

Anticipating a possible return of the plane, no lights were shown on board during the night and the party engaged themselves in constructing a raft capable of carrying food and water.

On the following morning, when the second plane was seen it seemed that they were in for another ordeal; but their fears were soon dispelled when the plane passed out of range without sighting them. The remainder of the trip was uneventful.

“Who were the airmen?” I asked Mac one evening over a glass of beer. “Were they Japs using a plane with American markings on the wings?”

“Jans be damned!” he said. “Japs would have made short work of us. No, they were Americans, and the SOS was a bait put across to catch twirps. We were the twirps.”

“But what was the reason for the attack after you had given them your identity.”

Mac shrugged his shoulders. “Only the good Lord knows the answer to that one.

It is one of the unsolved mysteries of the Pacific War.”

The Noumea Bulletin de Commerce, speaking on behalf of Free Frenchmen in New Caledonia, describes Australian war time Minister McEwan’s declaration in the Commonwealth Parliament that it was he who was responsible for getting New Caledonia to rally to General de Gaulle as “pure fantasy.” The paper adds that neither directly nor indirectly did the Australian Minister induce Cale donians to rally to Free France.