NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)Part IX : Halavo Bay - Operations
These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of Hamilton, N.Z. when I did my aircrew training in Canada.
Flying was more difficult here. We still did patrol work up as far as Nauru Island and the equator, but hunter-killer operations, search and rescue, and escort duties were also involved.
The weather was shocking at times, and so unpredictable. One day it could be beautiful and the next a raging cyclone. On one occasion our crew flew through the beginning of a tropical cyclone. In the morning our patrol went right through the middle, you could see it over an area of 40 miles. In the afternoon the intensity of it had increased immensely and next day it was on the move.
It was in stormy weather that planes became lost. Navigation aids did not exist, only one or two D/F (direction finding) stations. Because the Americans were used to all sorts of radio aids they were in real trouble in the islands.
We made the first rescue for our squadron when we picked up 10 of a Liberator crew. They ditched during the night about 160 miles north of our base. They were floating in three dinghies tied together. There was a fair swell running and some of them were in a bad way. Bill Mackley landed up wind after we dropped a smoke float or two out to mark where they were. It is very difficult to see anyone in the water with big waves. Finally we drifted back to them, and it was my job to pull them in. As the dinghy came level with the blister of the Catalina, I grabbed a survivor and hung on tight and hauled him in. One dinghy caught on the step of the hull and was punctured. Two grabbed the edge of the flying boat and the third I just managed to hang on to as he was sinking. When all were aboard we made them as comfortable as possible and gave them something to eat. Landing was comparatively easy, but the takeoff was another story.
After I had worked out another course Bill said, "Well here goes". This was one occasion I was really scared, once we were on the move. The waves were very high and Bill tried to take off on a swell. All motors were on full throttle, first one float would dip in, then the other and Bill was fighting like mad. The hull creaked and banged then we would hit a wave with a crash, become momentarily airborne, and back in the water again. Each time this happened the spaces became slightly longer, and eventually we stayed up. How many times we sank back into the sea I don't know, I was too scared to count. Nobody talked for at least 40 minutes, so it is safe to say we all felt the same. The engineers found the hull had sprung hundreds of rivets and we had a fair bit of water aboard. He used all my pencils to plug them, and we sent a M.T.B. (message to base) saying that we would need to come up on the beach. The landing crew were ready as soon as we touched down and ahuled us ashore. An ambulance took the survivors to hospital.
The next day we visited them and most were feeling better, although some were quite sick. The whole crew received a congratulatory message from Island Group Headquarters and Bill received a bar to his D.F.C. He deserved it, we all owe our lives to his great effort.
Weather was always a worry in the Pacific and we were mixed up in some terrible storms. Another rescue attempt our squadron was involved in covered several days, in some of the wildest weather I ever experienced. an American Liberator ditched somewhere north of our base and we were picking up signals from its lifeboat, which operated on 500 K.C. The wind was very strong and it was blown across the ocean at a terrific pace. We did square and creeping line ahead searches at almost nil visibility and navigation was almost impossible, because the pilots could hardly keep a courseand we were only a few feet above the water. From a navigation point of view I was mighty glad to cross a small island which we were able to recognise. Most of the crew were airsick on this trip, but by this time I was a good sailor. We never even spotted the survivors and certainly could never have picked them up if we did. Base received signals for several days and eventually they all perished.
Our crew were involved in several hunter-killer exercises, several all night, again in terrible weather. One trip we flew up and down the Solomons in and out of storms, in the clear patch I took star shots to find where we were.
Our squadron were involved in all sorts of rescues and incidents. Mac Cowern's crew ran foul of a Japanese 'Betty' near Nauru Island. It circled Mac's plane with its four inch cannon trained on it, but for reasons unknown it never fired and flew on. Catalinas were almost defenceless when it came to armament.
Don Beauchamp picked up five Liberator survivors [JS Note: 4 Feb. 1944] near Nauru Island who had been in a dinghy for six days. They said the sharks killed the rest of the crew when they crashed into the ocean. On this trip the radio operator panicked and couldn't get his radio to go, so the Medical Section weren't ready fro them when they came home.
Our Commanding Officer, Wing Commander Ian Scott was taking off one morning on a smooth sea, could not get airborne, and collided with the anti-submarine net. It took a strip right off the hull and they had to fly around for about eight hours before the engineers made temporary repairs.
After jettisoning the remainder of the fuel they landed beside an aircraft tender. As they were sinking a hoist was thrown around them to prevent the plane going to the bottom.[JS Note: Wg. Cdr. Ian Scott's PBY-5 NZ4012 XX-X is hoisted aboard the seaplane tender following the accident in March 1944]
F/O Martin was close to pranging when he went out on his first trip. He struck a lousy day and a mighty rough sea to land in. After several attempts he decided on a stall landing whaich was the correct thing to do. But he stalled about 50 feet up and the plane dropped like the stone. Everyone was on the beach fearing the worst. Crash tenders, ambulances, and the rest were already to go. He made it and we were all glad.
Our crew were detailed to search for an American Lightning pilot who went 'Tropo'. This was a term for people who lost their mind, or to put it mildly, war nerves. We had quite a number in various degrees. At one time he had threatened to spend the rest of the war on the Stewart Islands [JS Note: Sikaiana]. One day he took off with extra fuel tanks and he never returned.
He was armed so we took American guards with us, their job was to capture him. We landed in a lagoon and soon we were surrounded by natives in dugouts and outriggers. Missionaries had inhabited the island before the war, so a number could speak Pidgin English.
They told us the American came alright, but his plane dived into 200 fathoms of water when he landed. We spent a few hours ashore and met the chief whose only word was 'O.K.' This was a greeting, a farewell, and an answer to any conversation we tried to make. I was taken ashore in a dugout, the blinkin thing nearly capsized and I couldn't swim very far.
While in Halavo Bay we received news that Lou Slazenger was killed over Rabaul. He had a premonition that he wouldn't last long and he didn't. It was odd how some felt that way, thinking that the next trip would be the last. This must have been a horrible feeling. As far as I was concerned I never gave it a thought that anything would ever happen to me, yet on looking back it could have dozens of times.
[JS Note: 10 May 1944 NZ422211 Flt. Sgt. Louis Gordon Schlesinger, of RNZAF 30 Squadron, age 32, son of Augustus Schlesinger and Mary Schlesinger (nee Power), of Taupiri, New Zealand, Navigator of TBF-1C Avenger NZ2541 piloted by NZ421350 Flying Officer Alan Bailey,age 33, on strike against Lakunai, Rabaul, hit by flak over target and dived into sea 800 yards off Sulphur Point. Also killed WOpAG NZ413252 Wt. Off. Reginald Curtis, age 22. Source: Martyn, For your tomorrow, 1999]
Our squadron was very lucky, we had excellent ground staff, and what a beggar of a job they had. Ian Walther was in charge and he adopted the philosophy that the palnes must be serviceable by morning. He worked his men hard, all night at times. Many a time we would take over when the ground crew came off our planes. I don't think there was ever a case of engine failure attributable to bad servicing.
Apart from flying, points of interest included a chapel run by the 34th Construction Battalion. We attended this many times, and always enjoyed the singing of the negro choir and the service.
An Auckland benefactor donated a small yacht to our squadron and most of us tried sailing in it. I went with Jack Fox and Ally Dower, and on the return journey the wind dropped and we rowed back, miles it seemed.
I will never forget the American who went on the 'plonk' for about three days. He had a mixture of compass alcohol and coconut juice, and was in a stupor most of the time. His concoction was almost poisonous. I think he nearly died.
Thanksgiving Day was a day to remember. We were treated with Turkey, but those who were late got spam, a mixture of something that was never acceptable. It was second best to the horse meat we were given.
We all took our turn at guarding our planes, slept the night on them. I spent one Christmas on guard, felt quite homesick that time.
After some months at Halavo Bay, I was sent on a detached flight to the Treasury Islands.
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