The following introduction to Jim Mitchell’s circumstances was written by Jim Mitchells youngest grandson.
During the last two years of World War Two the Royal Australian Air Force had nine fighter squadrons operating in the Southwest Pacific area. There are 24 aircraft in a squadron and 3 Squadrons working together are called a fighter wing.
Most Squadrons had two or three extra aircraft and two or three extra pilots. The nine fighter Squadrons were divided into two Kittyhawk fighter wings and one Spitfire fighter wing.
Spitfires were not really suited for flying in the terrain of New Guinea region as they had an overheating problem.
Neither the Kittyhawk nor Spitfire could compete against the Japanese Zero in a “dog Fight”. The Zero had no armour plating and was a very light aircraft and very manoeuvrable. There were no enemy fighters as fast as a Kittyhawk in a dive, so the tactics were always to get above the enemy and dive at him.
On straight and level flying the Kittyhawk and Spitfire were probably faster. Whilst US Command got on with the job of retaking the Philippines, the Kittyhawk squadrons were relegated to mopping up and back up activities only.
Because of this decision the Kittyhawks were converted to fighter-bombers.
Vertical dive-bombing in a Kittyhawk was very accurate
The heaviest load they could handle was 3X 500lb bombs
They carried out watercraft sweeps and bombed Japanese installations that the Americans had bypassed.
Seating arrangements in a fighter plane consisted of a folded parachute with a rubber dinghy pack interposed between the pilot and the soft chute. Included in the dinghy pack was a metal cylinder of compressed gas to enable the dinghy to be inflated when required.
Another essential part of a pilot’s equipment, whilst not as uncomfortable as the dinghy, was the “Mae West”. The main reason for this, which was worn around the neck and chest, was as a flotation aid in the event of a descent into the sea. It also acted as a receptacle for items of escape/survival gear.
Survival Gear: Emergency rations, waterproof matches, compass, whistle, signalling mirror, razor blades, local currency, water purification tablets and “pep” pills. When coupled with water bottle, side arm, machete (strapped to the leg), oxygen mask, plus protective gear in case of fire. Long trousers, sleeves and gloves, with a silk scarf doubling as a map, helmet, goggles and throat microphone. Pilots felt they were equipped to meet anything the enemy could throw at them. Watercraft sweeps were of 3, 4, sometimes 5 hours duration. Most painful on the rear end!
During WW11, just under 6,000 Australians were categorised to be fighter pilots. Over one third did not pass the operational training course – of the total number 1,200 were killed.
Jim Mitchell now relates, for us, some of his personal experiences during WW 2. The following comes from his personal memoirs.
In the three years and 11 months that I was with the RAAF during World War 2, 12 October 1944 was one day I will never forget.
I was a fighter pilot with 77 Squadron operating from Noemfoor Island, Dutch New Guinea. I was rostered to go on a water-craft sweep of the Maccluer Gulf. Noemfoor Island in size is approximately 16 miles North South by 11 miles East West and is situated in the northern part of Geelvink Bay. We were based at Kamiri air strip on the Northwest coast of the island, one degree south of the equator.
The squadron was flying Kittyhawk P40 N25s and N30s. On this particular day, I was to fly A29-904, an N30. I was looking forward to flying this aircraft as I had picked it up brand new at Port Moresby on July 8, 1944.
Only two aircraft were to go on this mission, and I would be flying No 2 to the Flight Commander, Flight Lieutenant Ken Milne. This was to be my fifth operational sortie for the month. I was flying No 2 to Ken each time.
Ken Milne and Bill Miller, also a Flight Lieutenant, shared the honour of being the oldest pilots in the squadron, at least 29.
Ken was very experienced, having been an instructor on Wirraways for over 2 years before his posting to Mildura for operational training. He was a little aloof, although this was understandable as he was with a bunch of young pilots who at times were hard to control. I enjoyed flying with him, mainly because he was a very stable person, and the type I needed to keep me in check and stop me from doing anything stupid.
The reason for these water-craft sweeps was to ensure that no supplies, food or ammunition, reached the numerous Japanese locations that had been cut off. The Americans, in their devastating advance, had bypassed so many strongly held positions, that Japan’s task of helping them was becoming increasingly difficult.
For this particular mission we carried two 250-pound bombs and a 75 US gallon belly-tank. We took off from Kamiri at 0900 hours, crossing Geelvink Bay in a South Southwesterly direction, and reached the mainland some 40 miles south of Moemi. It was just a short distance across the isthmus, 15 miles, to the Gulf.
Maccluer Gulf runs in an East West direction with Bentoni Bay at the east end. The total area is about 125 miles long, and width, varying between 12 and 35 miles.
We were flying at 2000 feet and had only travelled a short distance along the north coast when Ken spotted a Japanese watercraft berthed in a small inlet alongside a high embankment. It was heavily camouflaged and probably some type of barge.
I was annoyed with myself because I would have flown right past it. In fact, it was not until Ken went in and strafed the thing, that I saw it. The camouflage was a totally different colour to the surrounding terrain.
Ken gave it a fairly long burst, and it appeared to catch fire. However, what I though was smoke was only dust, caused by some of his shells hitting the embankment.
I followed him in and gave the object a similar burst. Ken seemed satisfied that we had done enough damage, so we continued flying West along the coast.
I should mention that the Kittyhawk had 3 X .5inch Browning guns in each wing. It was great for strafing – a wonderful platform for the six guns.
To assist the pilots, every fifth shell was a tracer, and the other four were a mixture of armour piercing, explosive and incendiary. The firing rate of each gun was 350 to 400 rounds per minute.
We flew to the mouth of the Gulf which joins the Ceram Sea, and then south around Cape Fatagan to check on shipping in the small harbour of Fakfak.
Anti-aircraft fire started before we were anywhere near within range. I think it was just scare tactics by the Japanese.
We had no intentions of strafing or bombing the place. There was no airstrip at Fakfak, and the terrain is very mountainous. Plenty of strategic places to have concealed guns, and definitely not worth the risk of being shot down.
There was no shipping in the harbour, so we turned back and went around the Cape again, flying east along the south coast of the Gulf.
I knew Ken had made up his mind to bomb the airstrips at Babo, and it was not long before we started climbing.
At this time, I switched from using fuel from my belly tank to one of the main tanks. There is no fuel gauge for the belly tank, and I was never game to let it run dry. The normal thing to do, when this happened, was to quickly turn the selector to another tank, and switch on the fuel booster pump. Even with this pump assistance I feared the engine might not pick up. I suppose I always had my prang at Mildura in the back of my mind.
Babo was the biggest oil producing area in New Guinea, Dutch New Guinea and Ceram, and as far as Japan and the Allies were concerned an important place. There was still a large number of Japanese in this location, and the only way to stop supplies getting to them, besides the regular water-craft sweeps, was to keep the two airstrips unserviceable with constant bombing. Even so, it was amazing how quickly they repaired the damage we did, and the odd plane was able to land and take off between our visits.
The airfield area was quite large, with the main airstrip running approximately north south, and towards the southern end of this strip crossed by a shorter one running east west.
There were several dummy aircraft parked at the eastern end of the airfield. From above 3000 feet they look real and were there to entice us to fly low and strafe them. The township of Babo was close by also on the eastern side – on the Kasiro River which runs into the Gulf.
We arrived over the target area at 1050 hours flying at 10,000 feet. Because of the relatively safe height and knowing that every Jap in the area would be watching us, I felt very smug and cocky. But I knew that at the end of my dive, when I was close to the ground, I would feel pretty tense.
The bombing procedure in a P40, was to dive vertically with the nose of the aircraft pointing at the target. It was essential that there was no slip or skid in the dive. The black ball had to be in the centre. Just before releasing the bombs (at about 6000 feet) the nose had to be raised a fraction to just cover the target. As soon as you released the bombs you pulled away still in a dive, and left the area as quickly as possible, keeping at a minimum height, until well out of the range of any guns.
Ken was obviously working out the position to dive from, so that towards the end he would be diving down-sun and break starboard away from the town.
From the time we left Kamiri we had both observed radio silence. I had not spoken a word, but over the target area I was genuinely concerned that we would be going too fast in the dive to retain the belly-tanks. So, I quickly asked if we were going to drop them He told me to “shut up”, and then immediately went into his dive. This upset me because I knew I was right, and that we would be exceeding the safety limit for any auxiliary tank.
One of Ken’s bombs exploded half-way down the main runway plumb in the centre, and the other, also on the strip a little to one side. I rated the effort 9 out of 10, but I was bloody snooty with him, and determined to do better. I aimed where the two runways crossed, and to make sure of a good result, went below 5000 feet before releasing the bombs. It was perfect bombing, one big explosion in the middle of the crossing.
In my excitement I broke away to port instead of starboard, and if I had continued in the direction I was going would have flown straight over the township.
I was still in a steep dive when tracers came streaming past me from a gun that was literally out in the open. I was going too fast and was unable to get into a position to return fire. I just could not believe my good luck. The few times I had encountered Anti-Aircraft fire, I was unable to pinpoint where the guns were, as they were so well concealed. This gun was about 60 to 70 yards from the western boundary of the airfield, under a flimsy piece of camouflage. It may have been set up in what was once a tin shed, there was no roof but a low galvanised iron wall.
I called out to Ken that I knew where the bastards were, and to follow me in. It was a rather stupid thing to say, as there were probably only three or four Japanese at the most with the gun. I did a wide turn to Port, keeping my eyes riveted on the gun position. I gave myself plenty of space and came in from just over 1000 feet parallel with the airfield boundary, in a shallow dive. I was well out of range when the gun started firing at me, and at the same time I reckon every Jap who had a gun started firing at me from the scrub and trees along the boundary.
There were tracers and puffs of white smoke coming up everywhere. I could not believe it.
Of course, I realised I was set up, but although the Japs in the open were the decoy, and prepared to sacrifice their lives, I am quite sure they thought they could shoot me down without the help of the others.
I had to concentrate on the one gun, and even when I was pouring shells into it, for a moment their shells still came back at me. I just about flew through the camouflage, and the poor buggers did not stand a chance, not that I had any feeling for them whatsoever.
I was immediately thinking of exterminating all the others who had been firing at me.
Even though they had not shot me down, they knew they had given me a terrible fright. I am certain they did not expect me to return a third time. I flew straight up the boundary fence about 50 feet. I did not see any movement at all, but I knew they were there. I came across several small buildings, and open areas among the trees. I gave them all a burst. All through this effort by me, Ken Milne had been circling at 8000 feet.
I was furious – because if he had followed me in on my first strafing run, he would have created havoc and killed many Japanese.
I might add that if our positions had been reversed, I would have followed him anywhere.
I should mention at this stage, that it was an unwritten rule, when either bombing or strafing you only made the one run. With the situation I found myself in I felt I did the correct thing, but of course I was in the wrong!
Perhaps I am being a little unfair to Ken, and I certainly did not think about it at the time. But I had been involved in lots of action while he was circling above Babo.
He may have been thinking of our debriefing when we arrived back at Kamiri, and that he should at least get the credit for a couple of things on this mission. Whatever it was, he decided to go to two additional places.
We flew to Idore, which is situated between Maccluer Gulf and Geelvink Bay. RAAF Intelligence had informed us that there was a Radio Transmitting station operating in the area. Ken selected the building he thought was the station, and we each made a strafing run.
We then flew up the coast to Moemi, to destroy a fuel dump he had noted on a previous visit. There were 40 to 50 x 44-gallon drums stacked neatly in a small clearing.
He sent me in first, but I had exhausted my ammunition supply, so he had the pleasure of destroying the dump. There was heavy black smoke with the flames, and it was obviously diesel fuel.
It was only a short flight across the bay to Noemfoor Island (about 60 miles) the mission had taken us 3 hours and 20 minutes. When we landed, the first thing I asked Ken was why he did not follow me in at Babo. He simply said he called out to me to steady down, and that black smoke was coming from my plane, and he thought I had been hit.
I was a little embarrassed because I knew I had left the mixture control in fully rich, but did not realise black smoke was coming from the exhausts. The Japanese must have also thought they had scored a hit.
At the debriefing the Army Intelligence Officer, Captain John Gill, and our own Intelligence Officer Flying Officer Harry Sullivan were only interested in hearing from me. I cannot remember what was said but no doubt I had plenty to relate. Later in the afternoon a Flight Rigger asked me to have a look at my plane. It had been hit by an explosive shell near the leading edge of the port wing, close to the fuselage. From the angle the shell went through the wing it missed the belly-tank by about 3 feet. If it had hit the tank, I would have been history!
I never mentioned being hit by flak to Ken Milne or the incident about dropping our belly-tanks. I never flew with him again, which was my loss. I must have really upset him.
Ken was shot down over Moemi 18 October 1944 and picked up by the Yanks in a Catalina 24 hours later. He was able to head out to sea before baling out.
For the remainder of my tour with 77 Squadron I flew No 2 to Wing Commander Dick Cresswell. It was a great experience for me, flying with “The Boss”. He was the Wing Commander in charge of 81 Fight Wing, which consisted of 76, 77 and 82 Squadrons.
On the October 12 Mission I had obviously embarrassed Ken Milne. It was quite unintentional, but he knew that he should not have dived from 10,000 feet with a belly-tank. He knew that he did not say to me “steady down Jimmy”. Our radios were functioning perfectly, and he did not utter a word. He knew that he should have ordered me not to go in again.
On the other hand – if I had been flying No 2 with Dick Cresswell on that particular day, I am sure he would have quietly said to me “I’ll follow you in”.
In October 1944 the Wing lost 15 aircraft and 12 pilots were killed.
During World War II the Dutch Government issued to all Allied Aircrew Personnel operating in the Dutch New Guinea area, a card with a picture of Queen Wilhelmina on the front and instructions on the back, with an official letter. Warrant Officer Jim Mitchell received this card (with letter) when flying from Noemfoor Island with 77 Fighter Squadron in the latter part of 1944.
The instructions were also written in Malay:
1. The white man holding this paper is a friend of our Government
2. His plane has crashed and you must look after him so that he reaches safety
3. He is not able to ask in Malay for everything he needs, so you must anticipate his wants.
4. Bring drinking water and drinking coconuts.
5. Give him food such as fowls, eggs, bananas, paw paws and other suitable foods.
6. Hide this white man and keep his presence a secret. The Japanese must not learn of his whereabouts.
7. If he is unable to walk make a stretcher and carry him.
8. Let one man take the Government’s letter to the village chief.
9. The white man will sign and give you a paper, and when the Government returns you will be given a good reward in exchange for this paper
THESE ARE THE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE GOVERNMENT AND YOU MUST OBEY THEM
