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Post by Dave Homewood on Jan 15, 2020 17:44:06 GMT 12
Thanks to Mike Williams who just reminded me it is 75 years today since Black Monday, the day the RNZAF lost eight Corsairs, and eight pilots in the one action that began over Rabaul.
Those killed were:
No. 14 Squadron, RNZAF
F/Lt Frank Keefe
F/Lt Bruce Hay
F/O Albert Saward
F/Sgt Ian Munro
F/Sgt John McArthur
No. 16 Squadron, RNZAF
F/Lt Tom Johnson
F/O Greville Randell
F/Sgt Ron Albrecht
The story has been told many times but perhaps the best telling is in Bryan Cox's book 'Too Young To Die'.
Here's another account from the late Andy Cook
We will remember them.
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jan 15, 2020 18:10:55 GMT 12
TRAGIC DAY
EIGHT HEW ZEALAND PILOTS LOST
SAD STORY OF GALLANT ENDEAVOUR
(R.N.Z.A.F. Official News Service) • (Delayed Despatch.)
SOUTH-WEST PACIFIC, Jan. 23.
One of the most tragic episodes in the short but eventful history of the R.N.Z.A.F. in the Pacific occurred on Monday, January 15. On that day eight New Zealand Corsair pilots failed to return, one of them after a gallant struggle for survival, lasting some nine hours.
The victims were:—
KILLED.
Flying-officer Greville Randell; wife, Mrs J. F. J. Randell, Auckland.
MISSING. BELIEVED KILLED.
Flight-lieutenant Thomas Randall French Johnson; wife, Mrs W. P. Johnson, Auckland.
Flight-sergeant Ronald Wilfred Albrecht; mother, Mrs L. M. Albrecht, Palmerston North.
MISSING.
Flight-lieutenant Bruce Stafford Hay; father, Dr H. M. Hay, Taihape.
Flight-lieutenant Francis George Keefe; wife, Mrs F. Keefe, Auckland.
Flying-officer John Seddon McArthur; mother, Mrs J. Trewin. of Oaro, Marlborough.
Flying-officer Albert Norman Saward; father, Mr Q. A. Saward, Auckland.
Flight-sergeant lan James Munro; mother. Mrs A. Munro. of Whangaripo, North Auckland.
FIRST DISASTER.
What was to prove a chain of disasters commenced shortly after 9 in the morning. At that time Keefe was taking part in a strike on Toboi, south of Rabaul, in Simpson Harbour, New Britain. Receiving a direct hit from anti-aircraft fire, which shattered his starboard wing, he was forced to bail out from his smoking aircraft at approximately 2,000 ft. While Keefe floated down almost literally into the lap of the Japanese ensconsed firmly in their largest stronghold in the Solomons-Bismarcks area, the remainder of his flight circled anxiously overhead.
He landed in the water near the north end of Simpson Harbour, and his fellow-Corsair pilots were relieved to see him commence swimming strongly towards the harbour mouth. Base was advised, and immediately rescue plans were set in hand. At this stage the position was in the nature of a stalemate. Although swimming, the New Zealander was as good as surrounded "by the watching Japs. The latter dared not put out in a boat to pick him up for fear of being strafed by the fighters, which continued to orbit the harbour despite anti-aircraft fire.
A QUANDARY.
On the other hand, the Pacific flyers' Angel of Mercy Dumbo (Catalina flying boat) could not possibly land under the very muzzles of the Japanese shore batteries to pick up' the pilot while he remained in his present position. There was only one solution, and everyone knew it—the Japanese included. Keefe if he were to be picked up, would have to make a long swim out past the entrance to Simpson Harbour, to a distance where the Catalina could land with at-least a reasonable chance of taking off again.
DOGGED STRUGGLE.
And so commenced a dogged struggle on the part of Keefe, which was destined to last all day. Discarding his small rubber dinghy, but retaining his Mae West, he set off from his position about half a mile north of a small group of harbour islands, known as the Beehives. Shortly after 10 o'clock he had passed the Beehives, and was striking out towards Matupi Island, at the harbour month.
Meanwhile, reports of Keefe's progress were being flashed back to the Corsairs' New Zealand Air Task Force base. It appeared at this stage that the swimmer would be assisted by the wind and tide, and it seemed that a rescue attempted just before nightfall would stand a fair chance of success.
RESCUE PREPARATIONS.
The time for the water landing was set for 6.15 p.m., and fighter pilots were briefed to engage the shore batteries and keep them occupied with bombing and strafing while the Catalina remained on the water. Should the rescue fail, it was arranged that the Ventura should he standing by with two bamboo rafts fitted with rubber dinghies, paddles, and provisions, stored in the bomb bays, so that Keefe might be able to paddle out to sea under cover of darkness. The long day wore on. There was never a moment when Simpson Harbour was not covered by New Zealand Corsairs, flights relieving each other at regular intervals. And Keefe continued to swim and rest, and swim again, slowly gaining ground towards the heads. The weather over behind Rabaul was closing in, and the ceiling over the harbour came down to about 1,500 ft in the late afternoon. This meant that the Corsairs were well within range of the anti-aircraft batteries scattered round the shore, but was welcomed as a good sign. Should the weather close in altogether, the Dumbo could possibly land under cover of fog and rain.
SWIMMER LOSES GROUND.
However, the position had deteriorated by 6 o'clock, when 12 Corsairs arrived over Rabaul to join the three already circling the area. The ceiling was low, but visibility remained good, and if anything the anti-aircraft had become more intense. Added to this, Keefe, who had amazingly kept up his struggle for nine hours, and had made excellent progress, had now become exhausted, and, without reaching a point where the Dumbo could pick him up, was losing ground and drifting back into Simpson Harbour.
VENTURA GOES IN.
With the Corsairs, the Catalina and the Ventura standing by, the situation was summed up. Reluctantly it was decided that to attempt a rescue would be suicidal. The senior pilot present, and the leader of the Corsairs, Squadron-leader P. S. Green, of Hamilton, then decided to lead in the Ventura and drop the rafts while the remainder of the fighters kept the shore batteries quiet with a concentrated attack. This mission was successful. Green led the Ventura, piloted by Warrant-officer R. F. Lindsey, of Hamilton, in round the back of the Vulcan crater at ground level, and with Keefe's position clearly fixed in his mind, roared low over the foreshore and out across the harbour, firing his guns as he passed near the swimmer as a signal to drop the rafts.
Making a second run, Green found that the rafts had been dropped accurately, straddling Keefe, and about 100yds each side of him.
TOO LATE.
But the long swim against unequal odds had taken its toll. If Keefe knew rafts had been dropped he made no sign. He was lying face downwards across a log when the squadron leader passed him, and there was no sign of movement. Even when the squadron leader made a third run, only a few feet above the water, Keefe remained motionless, and subsequent searches revealed no trace of him.
That was the first half of the day, nine drawn-out hours of planning and striving to rescue a gallant New Zealand pilot, whose struggle to win out against insuperable odds will never be forgotten by those who did their best and risked their lives to save him.
ONLY EIGHT CORSAIRS RETURN.
But the day had not yet ended. Fifteen R.N.Z.A.F. Corsairs set off on the return flight from Simpson Harbour. Only eight made their base. This time the enemy was the weather. Between the aircraft and their atoll air strip a tropical front had built up. Visibility was practically nil. Heavy rain was encountered in places, which drove into the fighters' cockpits. Lightning frequently blinded the pilots. Under these conditions the Corsairs, unable to carry out any accurate navigation, were at a disadvantage. Their base was only a tiny patch of coral in the broad Pacific, and, although every assistance was being given to guide them home, including shining a stationary searchlight up through the clouds, it would still be easy to pass the atoll within a few minutes' flying distance and still miss it. The, radio "steers" could bring them close to base, but could not land them.
TRAGEDY.
Out of the first flight, one aircraft was lost. Flying low, a pilot crashed into the opposite side of the atoll from the air strip. A second flight of four aircraft hit the front, flying at 300 feet. Only one pilot came through. Two of the Corsairs collided in the murk, and a third, taking action to avoid being involved in collision, also hit the sea and crashed. Another flight of four aircraft passed safely through the front, and arrived over the strip. In circling prior to landing, however, one pilot lost touch with his flight and disappeared, and was not heard of again. The remaining flight, flying low, lost two aircraft, which crashed into the sea. The two other Corsairs climbed, and eventually found base by means of the searchlight beam.
BLACK MONDAY.
So ended Monday, January 15, a day of bitter trials for the members of a young New Zealand air task force base.
To those who had seen the Corsair squadrons taxi out in the morning, the day's tally was stunning—one pilot shot down by the Japanese, seven young men who did not come back after a gallant attempt to rescue their comrade.
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Post by starr on Jan 15, 2020 20:24:07 GMT 12
A plaque for F/Sgt Ian Munro is on the wall of the Wellsford RSA.
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jan 15, 2020 20:26:19 GMT 12
There's also a nice memorial dedicated to all who were lost outside Sir Keith Park Memorial Airfield at MOTAT.   |
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Post by planewriting on Jan 15, 2020 20:49:01 GMT 12
And of course it happened on Bryan Cox's 20th birthday. Put another way, he turned 95 today. Happy Birthday Bryan.
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Post by Dave Homewood on Jan 16, 2020 0:03:59 GMT 12
Yes indeed.
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