Lt. Linfante in #616 About 80 to 100 miles from Iwo we spotted a P-61 night fighter, a Northrop Black Widow, on combat air patrol. We joined up with him in light rain and he led us into Iwo. McClure requested immediate clearance to land. Aware of his problem, Iwo Control granted his request. However, not wanting me to jettison and waste my oversize 165-gallon external tanks, I was advised to remain aloft until I had used all the fuel contained within them. For whatever reason, McClure failed to jettison his partially-full external tanks, and made a hard landing that buckled the wings of his P-51. I spent the next couple of hours having a ball doing acrobatics, buzzing Kita and Minami Jima as well as Navy ships in and around Iwo, I was glad they recognized me as friendly and seemed to enjoy my shenanigans. Otherwise, as I thought later, they could have shot me down. After landing and being debriefed, I stayed on the flight line to watch the returning fighters. I was quite worried about L/C Scandrett and Lt. Graham, one of my tent mates. The Mustangs returned in two's and three's, separated by intervals of time. It was quite clear that the mission had not gone well. The full extent of our losses became evident late in the day, after Lt. Graham, our last arrival, landed about 8 hours after takeoff. By then, it was obvious that we had lost somewhere between 25 and 30 Mustangs. Graham said he stayed on Scandrett's wing as long as he could, not knowing what was wrong. He then climbed back into the soup, found a B-29 and flew formation with it all the way to Japan, where it dropped its bombs and flew back again to Iwo. I was deeply saddened by the loss of so many of my fellow pilots. All due to weather, no less. In retrospect, the collision that forced us to abort may have saved our lives (McClure's and mine). Had we gone on we could have been among those who never returned. We'll never know. Reflections on the Mission by Capt. J.J. Grant Because of the distance to be flown, each aircraft had 2 pilots assigned; one would fly and the other stayed home to rest. Because of the many friends that we made during training, we would always go to the flight line, climb up on the wing and wish our buddies good luck. Then, when it was about time for the planes to return, we would go down to the flight line and wait for the planes to return. On this day we went down to the flight line early. Planes started to return earlier than expected. Instead of returning as a group, they started drifting in one at a time. We would meet the planes as soon as the engine was turned off. As we talked with the pilots the magnitude of the tragedy started to unfold. One pilot saw a large flash of light where two planes collided. The digest of the conversations, "bail out," "I've been hit; I'm bailing out," the confusion, the utter chaos, the possibility that your closest friend might not return started to take its toll. My tent buddy did not return. Twenty-four others were missing. We stayed on the flight line 'til dark, praying, searching the sky for a plane, any plane. How could such a thing happen to such magnificent pilots, so highly trained, so competent? Why am I so sad? That night it was a dreary scene, in our tent long, broken hearted sobs, the rain on the canvas tent and the heavy breathing of all the others. The weather closed in; another plane never left the ground for seven days. It also meant that our rescue teams could not function. No other nation protected their pilots like America. We had protective armor in front and in back of us. We had a parachute, a dinghy that could be inflated, signaling gear, dye to throw in the water so we could be seen from the air. All along the route to Japan we had submarines, Navy P.B.Y's that could land in the water and pick us up. We had destroyers every 150 miles. We had B-17's with a boat that could be dropped to the downed pilot. But all this was useless because of the front that had settled in. Tragedy stalks the quonset huts, the tents of the 506th tonight. There are eleven empty beds in our area, each one representing a pilot, each one representing a very close and very dear friend of someone. Each one an indication of a vacant spot left in some young girl's heart for a love that will never return. A permanent niche in some Mother's heart and a Dad who will hold his head high and say, "I gave my son that America might live," and then find a secluded spot and sob for a son who will not return. I climbed on many a wing, wishing my buddy well, good luck, happy flying. There was nothing unusual about the take-off, just another day, another job to do. After a few hours we proceeded to the cliffs to welcome our troops back. A few planes came into view, then a few more — each adds to a grim story. Shock and tragedy are already apparent. We piece together a disaster. The B-29's flew into the front. Soon there is general hysteria. Planes collide "I'm bailing out," adds to the confusion. Soon it's every man for himself, self-preservation. Some spin out, recover, spin again, recover and head for home. Others went through and flew to Japan and fulfilled the mission. B-29's shot at P-51's trying to close up. Other P-51's chandelled away from another B-29 thinking it was an enemy aircraft. Episodes of icing, spins, near collisions, planes inverted in flight, great flashes of light from collisions, were topics of conversation. Radio jamming, instrument flying, high altitude flying, lack of oxygen, on the deck flying common place. One B-29 had planes in echelon, flew so low that the last plane crashed into the sea. The pilots who returned all were extremely happy that they had survived, yet heart broken that so many dear friends were listed as missing. They came in white, perspiring, unsteady — Like punch-drunk fighters. Each hour we prayed that the air/sea rescue can find some of our buddies. The weather was bad for seven days preventing a thorough search. Hope! One pilot found in his raft; another found six days later, delirious, but happy. God was not kind to us. Front: Lts. Robert Gourley and Frank Buzze. Back: Lts. Bernie Comfort, Jack Rice, Thomas McNall, and Harold Stewart. (From Ed Bahlhorn) LT. FRANK BUZZE — 462nd -— I was leading the fourth flight of the 462nd Squadron, we flew into the front. Suddenly I was aware that a P-51 was about to ram me. I broke away and found myself alone in this turbulent mess. I went into a spin, recovered and took back our original heading. When I broke into the clear, I immediately picked up two stragglers, one from the 15th and one from the 21st. We flew to Japan, escorted the bombers over the target and returned to Iwo, where we found that we were missing in action. We had no clue until we landed of the disastrous losses suffered by the three groups that day. We were extremely lucky to be re-classified. JOHN WEDUM — 506th — I was flying wing that day to the flight leader. I remember as the soup got thicker that I closed in as tight as I possibly could. Even in tight I could not always see his ship, so I would freeze the controls until I could just barely make out part of his plan, then make a small correction to keep my formation. Pilots were screaming on the radio about "going down". Someone reported that they were in the clear, just above the water. Some pilots reported that they were letting down because of the "clear" report, but they were awfully low and still in the "soup". My flight broke out on the Japanese side of the front. We finally broke out of the front, re-grouped and headed back toward Iwo. As we neared Iwo we picked up headings and headed for home. I remember how glad we were to be home and how upset we were that we had been subjected to such a situation. LEO HINES — 72nd Squadron, 21st Group — A pilot from group headquarters was leading our squadron. We headed into the "soup". The confusion was unbelievable. Our formation dissolved from absolute necessity. I found myself alone. Tacked ontoaB-29 and flew formation with him until he indicated that we were at 200 ft. I had seen the water a couple of times, figured I would be safer on my own. I picked up a reciprocal heading, broke out in the clear on the Iwo side of the front. Major Grim was in the vicinity, tacked on his wing, returned to Iwo. God, what a mess. FRANK SEALE — 462nd - Shortly after leaving Iwo, we encountered a 30,000 foot front. Our group leader ordered a large climbing turn to try and go over the front. However, we ended up entering the front at about 25,000 feet. Immediately, I encountered heavy turbulence, no visibility. I made a 180° turn and headed back to Iwo. JOHN FINDLEY — 462nd - Where was I on the June 1 weather flight? On a B-29 half an hour behind everybody. I had attended the mission briefing the night before at Island Command and had been assigned as command pilot and weather to go out in a B-29 half an hour before the mission took off. Before going overseas I had been pulled off terminal leave and sent through an accelerated weather program at Bryan Field, Texas. I had previously been through the Bryan instrument pilot program. At scheduled takeoff, the B-29 developed trouble and we had to delay so the next 29 in line took our place. Unfortunately, the fighter pilot in it never had been on a Japan mission; he was new and had only been to Chichi Jima. After the mission took off, and you may recall it was ordered off against the advice of the weather officer, we got the 29 squared away and took off about 30 minutes behind the mission. I can still see in my mind's eye that endless line of cumulus clouds that marked the front. Visible from about 100 miles away, we were aware of the tremendous build-up and began to climb. We were pushing the 29, yet it appeared that no matter hew fast we climbed, the tops of the clouds stayed with us and the closer we got the more obvious it was we'd never get over the top. I remember looking at the rate of climb indicator and it was at 1000'/minute. Still the clouds boiled up faster. There was no sensation of climbing from the perspective of the 29, no sense of nose-up attitude. I remember thinking it was rather like being in a glass-enclosed elevator; one simply rose, not climbed, and all from a level-seeming flight. Not long before we hit the front the problem was obvious, the radio chatter was incessant and confused. We decided to go into the soup on the chance we might pick up a plane or two and they could fly wing on us until we got them out. We did so and by some good chance ran into a held among the clouds and saw several (I don't recall how many) P-51's milling about in a circle. We dropped down, got them to tuck in tight, and led them out of the front and headed them back to Iwo. We decided to try again and found either the same or another hole and circled in it waiting for survivors. I really don't recall whether we picked up anyone on the second trip, but since the hole extended down fuzzily to the water, we decided to go down and see if we could spot survivors in the water in life rafts. The clouds extended down to the water level and getting that big beast in a fairly tight spiral to the water level was tricky. We searched as much as we could, but weather prevented a really good job and each time we ran into heavy clouds or fog or what-have-you. We had no choice but to climb and then ease back down. I don't really recall how long we searched, not long enough, I'm sure, but we loitered on the way back.. thinking we might pick up some strays. We didn't. It was either that evening or the next there was a board of inquiry. Col. Harper called me in the afternoon and told me he would attend and would pick me up at 1900. I remember him coming by in his Jeep and on the way down assuring me not to worry. I asked him if there was any way they could get him and he said, no he was in the clear. It was obvious as we walked into the board that they were looking to hang somebody. The general was not looking too good after ordering the mission out under the circumstances. After the preliminaries, I was the first mission person called and the first question was why I had radioed that the mission could get through. When I explained that I had not, in fact, done so and explained the circumstances, they rousted around to check logs, etc. to see that, in fact, I had not got off till the mission had departed. Then they found who was in the weather B-29 and found it was a replacement pilot with no mission experience. It was after that that they adopted a rule that only a combat-experienced pilot could fly lead weather pilot. As I recall, one pilot did get to the coast of Japan, but since he didn't even fire his guns or anything, he didn't get a medal. Sightseeing, under however hazardous conditions, simply did not count! And that's where I was on June 1. I lost a classmate of mine, Crenshaw, on that mission. And do you remember how they virtually stripped Hickam Field instrument training to get us AT6's, etc.? And suddenly, I, who had been the instrument training officer and couldn't get anybody to practice, suddenly had people knocking at the door for hood time. We used the 6's to take the Sergeant from the amphibious duck outfit for rides and he would have one of his boys take us around to the departing ships for excess foodstuffs. The Sergeant loved to fly but was scared to death to do so. Those 6's came in mighty handy. Sabins Letter

462nd Squadron, 506th Group Weather Mission

June 1, 1945 Mission was a B-29 Escort Mission; our group leader was Lt. Col. Scandrett. Stu Lumpkins was the 462nd Squadron Leader in Red Flight. I was the Element Leader in this flight; don't recall who was Lumpkin's wingman. Take-off and rendezvous at Kita Jima were normal. Shortly after leaving the rendezvous point, my engine started to run rough. I called Red Leader and left the flight to return to Iwo. About halfway back the engine started running normally, so I made a 180° and caught the Squadron. I asked for permission to resume my position as Number 3 in Red Flight. I was told that Spare Leader had taken that position, and that I was now Spare Leader. I took that position. Shortly before this, Blue 4 aborted and I took over as Blue 4. This flight was led by Capt. Crenshaw, with Bob Graham flying his wing and Jungle McClure as Element Leader. We proceeded on course for perhaps three-quarters of an hour with the cardinal rule of "don't go on instruments, except in an emergency. This mission was constituted effective, though costly, experience in eliminating personnel errors. VERNON WICKMAN -- 506th Group — I was leading the second element in the lead squadron on June 1 when our group, along with the 15th and 21st Fighter Groups, attempted to penetrate a severe weather front about two hours out of Iwo. We were at 10,000 ft. with the 15th Fighter Group stacked 500 ft. higher to our left and the 21st Fighter Group 500 ft. lower to our right. Each group had a lead B-29 for navigation assistance. A weather recon B-29 was about thirty minutes ahead of us and had communicated back to the lead B-29 1 s that there should be no problem in topping the weather at 10,000 feet. However, as we approached the front, it was rather apparent that the clouds were boiling high above us and that it might be impossible to maintain VFR. I fully expected the B-29's to call for an abort, but they didn't and we pressed on with the front now barely a mile away. I remember at this point reaching down to uncage my flight indicator and wagging my element to tighten up in anticipation of having to go IFR. In a matter of seconds, we encountered the first thin clouds and, for a moment, it looked like we might thread our way through the stuff. But, looks were deceiving, and we almost immediately plunged into some heavy clouds that wiped out all visibility of other aircraft. At the same time, extreme turbulence made it nearly impossible to maintain flight control. We were being tossed around like leaves in the wind. I tucked my head down, concentrated on the flight instruments and attempted to barrel through as straight and level as possible, hoping my wingman could avoid chewing me up. Within seconds "Mayday" calls were being screamed over the VHF as planes collided or went into uncontrolled attitudes and pilots attempted to bail out. I'm sure there was a valiant attempt by all to maintain some semblance of formation, but it simply was not possible under the conditions. And I suspect that many of the pilots were caught with their gyro horizons caged and thus were unable to cope with the turbulence. I remember flying straight ahead for a matter of seven or eight minutes before breaking into the clear. It seamed like I had suddenly come into the eye of a typhoon — bright, blue sky with scattered cumulus floating serenely above the sea below. I circled briefly, looking for other fighters and finally spotted a B-29 circling along with several P-51's. I joined them, noteing that there were some planes from each of the fighter groups. The B-29 pilot called and asked if we wanted to continue on to the target. Getting a negative, he said he would circle for another fifteen minutes to pick up any other stragglers that might have made it through. We finally accumulated nine fighters, including myself. The B-29 pilot finally called again and said "Let's head for home! He suggested that we let down to low altitude and try to fly back under the front. He thought we could do it VFR with only rain showers to be encountered. Nobody objected, so we circled on down to 500 ft. and turned southward in one big "V", like a mother hen and her chicks. It wasn't too long before we encountered lowering clouds and heavy rain with considerable turbulence. Soon we were down to 200 ft. with visibility, at times, reduced to the plane ahead. It was at this point that I suddenly was overcome with vertigo. Flying in the Number 3 position on the B-29's right wing, I literally saw and felt the entire formation turn upside down. I sensed my feet falling off the rudder pedals as though I were in inverted flight. I knew it couldn't be true, yet I even started to put forward pressure on the stick in order to maintain inverted flight! Fortunately, logic took over and I overcame that fatal urge, but I couldn't shake the vertigo. So I called the B-29 pilot, told him the problem and asked that he ascend to a higher altitude. We were simply too close to the water for the flight conditions we were in. He immediately started to climb, and some eight to nine minutes later, broke out on top at about 8000 ft. During the entire climb, I had the feeling that I was flying upside down. That feeling didn't leave me until we broke into the clear. We made it back to Iwo without further incident and were happy to see old Hot Rocks again. In checking my flight records, I see that I logged five hours and twenty minutes on that flight — probably the most memorable in my 30-year career. To the Big Man above that mission must have looked like one huge, bronco-busting rodeo in the sky as 148 fighter pilots wrestled with their bucking Mustangs in an attempt to stay in the saddle and survive. The story of this mission is a classic indication of World War II foul-ups which resulted in the loss of some of our dearly beloved friends and fellow pilots. We continued to fly the missions assigned, taking off each day for Japan, a distance of 750 miles, flying past unfriendly islands, approaching mainland Japan with Mt. Fuji clearly in the distance. It looked no different to me than flying over Florida where we trained. Fortunately for my group, we arrived after the most heated battles, yet we were no less involved in the almost daily sorties over the Japanese mainland. When trouble approached we dropped our wing tanks, gave battle if it were necessary, if not we escorted the B-29's over assigned targets, always admiring the crews of these valiant ships who flew into the most intense anti-aircraft fire with complete disregard of the seriousness of the situation. Then we dropped down to the decks strafing everything in sight — trains, high tension lines, boats, buildings, or anything that moved, except humans. Then with fuel a problem, we headed for home. 750 miles of sweat and anguish, listening to the motor, praying for good gas mileage. Then Iwo would come into view. The fuel-short planes would land first, then the rest. Taxi up to the line and your buddies climb on the wing and say "Welcome home, Old Buddy." Twenty-seven Mustangs and 24 pilots had been lost.. but acrimony, argument and myth attended the event for years to come. As a postscript to the tragedy, someone at the Twentieth Air Force sent a shipment of Link trainers (instrument simulators) to the VII Fighter Command on Iwo. That added insult to injury, recalled Maj. Jim Trapp, CO of the 78th Squadron. " It became an unwritten rule that should anyone lose an engine on takeoff that they were to take out the Link trainer building." In just four months of long range fighter operations from Iwo Jima the three Mustang groups wrote off 160 aircraft to all causes. Air/sea rescue saved some 50 pilots but 90 were killed. Over one-fourth were the direct result of weather, the unseen and unconquered enemy, 24 of them on Black Friday. A tropical depression, with its attendant foul weather, mercifully kept the Group earth bound for the next several days. It also curtailed air/ sea rescue units as the storm swelled into a full-fledged typhoon by 6 June. Iwo was battered by wind and rain. (3)Survival Report On Fighter Pilot Picked Up After Six Days At Sea In A Life Raft

The following is an account of the six days Lt. Burry spent in a life raft before being picked up by a submarine North of the Bonin Islands (Map) Second Lieutenant Arthur A. Burry's engine cut out and he became separated from his flight. He called his flight leader but his transmission was not working. His engine cut back in and Lt. Burry turned around and started back to base alone, calling in on his radio and getting no acknowledgement. He flew for approximately one hour when his engine cut out again. It is estimated Lt. Burry was approximately 275 miles from base at this time. He rode the plane down from 9,000 feet to 2,000 feet when he jumped out, diving for the wing. Lt. Burry landed in the water on his back and had a little trouble getting out of his harness. There were a couple of shroud lines tangled in his May West which he had to cut loose. He let the parachute go. Two minutes after hitting the water Lt. Burry had his life raft out and inflated. Because he had swallowed salt water he threw up his breakfast. This was the only sign of seasickness during the entire six (6) days. During the period, Lt. Burry ate less than one can of Pemmican, drank less than one quart of water. . He was never hungry, never thirsty. He had no bowel movements. He survived a typhoon, and not until the sixth day did he start to suffer delusions. It was colder at night than during the day but he did not mind the cold particularly. The only pain that he was in was from pressure sores in the small of his back. He did not use the Air/Sea Rescue handkerchief because he knew he was far enough out at sea not to worry about drifting onto hostile shores. He was never dry but he did not catch cold. First Day - 1 June

Lt. Burrys landed in the water at 1100. Later in the day he saw B-29s returning from strike and used five

tracer one dye marker, and one star flare to attract their attention. Weather was clear but cool. During the night he dosed off

but was never more than half asleep. He ate and drank nothing the first day. Second Day - 2 June

Weather was closed in to the deck. Lt. Burry did nothing but sit in the boat and try to get dry. At noon he ate a little Pemmican and drank a little water. Water was still choppy and at night he ate nothing. Third Day- 3 June

Lt. Burry saw B-29s through a haze en route to Japan. He put out one dye marker and sent up one flare,

neither of which wore observed. He ate nothing and drank a little more water. Fourth Day - 4 June

In the morning the weather was closed in completely and it was raining. Lt. Burry did not catch any water as he had used only half a can of water at this point. He ate one-fourth of a can of Pemmican. He put up the sail "just for something to do". There was little wind and the water was very choppy so there was no noticeable difference in the raft with the sail up. After an hour he took it down. Fifth Day - 5 June

The day passed uneventfully. That night while dozing it started to rain. At 0200 6 June the water got very rough. During the night Lt. Burry got dumped out of the raft over five times. He had tied the back pack to the handle of the raft. It became untied, or the shroud line broke, and the back pack sunk and all of his food was lost. He had only the emergency water kit with a pint of water in it when the storm subsided. Sixth Day - 6 June

After the storm the sun came out and the water was calm except for swells. That night Lt. Burry started having delusions. He was at a party on the ocean in a barn with other pilots from his squadron. At the party he met a friend of a friend who said he worked in the control tower and promised to send a destroyer for him. Cruising above the Nanpo Shoto Trench, the submarine Trutta was submerged at 200 feet proceeding toward their Lifeguard station off Honshu, some 400 miles north. Even at that depth, mountainous seas rocked the ship. Surfacing briefly at dawn, Lt. Commander F. P. Hoskins, skipper of the Trutta, reccorded waves of forty to fifty feet. He and his bridge crew were lashed by 100 knot winds. The 1500-ton submarine was being tossed about like a piece of drift-wood. Hoskins cleared the bridge and sought the safety of the depths. Two hundred feet below the waves Trutta still rolled up to 10 degrees. Seventh Day - 7 June

The morning was clear and bright and Lt. Burry realized no destroyer was coming, that he had been deluded the night before. Presently he started "hearing music, distinct voices of people singing songs. Later, when the submarine picked him up, he was not delirious but was somewhat incoherent. He seemed to expect the submarine and took it as quit normal that he should be picked up. He was able to climb down the hatch with out any help. At 1330 the Hoskins rose to periscope depth. The barometer had hit bottom and was rising. Seas were moderate and Trutta had to get up speed to get on station. The submarine finally surfaced and began churning northward. That afternoon, 7 June, lookouts spotted the unmistakable flash of a yellow rubber life raft on a swell, dead ahead. Proceeding toward this bit of flotsam, without much conviction, the crew was amazed to find it occupied by a living human being. After six full days at sea, 2nd Lt. Arthur A. Burry, a member of the 45th Squadron, had been miraculously found. He was located about 300 miles north northwest of Iwo Jima and about 50 miles west of Sofu Gun rock. He had been thrown from his raft countless times in the howling typhoon of the 6th. Burry was weak from hunger and exposure, had suffered delirium during his final night at sea, but he perked up once aboard the submarine. He had lost track of time as his watch failed to function. When questioned he thought he had spent over eight days in the water. Lt. Burry states that he hopes to fly again but that at present he is more than a little leery about long over-the-water hops. The balance sheet for the VLR mission of 1 June 1945 was finally closed. Fate had stealthily snatched 25 pilots from the Group's roster and then, almost mystically, had given one back. Following the disaster of 1 June in which the Deputy CO and the Assistant Operations Officer were lost, the senior squadron commander, Major “Luddy” Watters of the 457th, moved up to join the Group Staff as Operations Officer while Lt Col Brown stepped into Lt Col Scandrett’s job. Maj Watters handed over the squadron to Capt Anthony, the 457th Operations Officer, and Capt Anthony’s position in turn fell to Capt Guadianni, formerly the Squadron Gunnery Officer. Some hope was entertained that the missing pilots might return, consequently these changes were made vOCO on 2 June. On the 23rd, Lt Evan S Stuart joined from the 458th as Asst. Operations Officer. On one of the Tuesday afternoon ceremonies at the Fighter Command, 12 of our pilots were awarded the Air Medal, and 2, Lt Col Brown and Maj DeJarnette, the first Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster to the Medal. “They successfully participated in long range fighter missions against the Japanese Empire, displaying high professional skill and courage which reflected great credit upon themselves and the Army Air Forces.” Awards of the good conduct medal were also made during the month to eligible enlisted men of the Group. Captain Chauncey Newcomb, 457th squadron: "I wasn't keen about being "tail end Charlie" but on this mission, I was leading the last flight in the last squadron of the three groups.... As the stream approached the front, it wasn't really visible to us as a cloud formation, but more of a haze. The change from clear to cloudy was so gradual that until I became aware that the squadrons ahead of us were becoming obscure, I really didn't think that we were headed into trouble. As aircraft ahead began to disappear, I knew that I had to take some action. I don't recall any radio warning, or talk. I took my flight into a sharp left diving turn, with the comforting knowledge that there was no one to run up our tails ... When we broke out only my element leader, Fran (sp) Albrecht, was still with me." Francis Albrecht (pilot pictured) and Chauncey Newcomb shared the "Erma Lou". Erma Lou was my wife's name says Francis. Chauncey was an excellent leader. I flew as his element leader on most missions. We were together on the June mission when we lost so many of our squadron to weather. The 506th missing included: Headquarters

Capt Edmund M Crenshaw, O-660038 MIA Unknown (The MACR database also lists 44-72572 as being lost with the 506th on June 1st, so it's most likely that this is Capt Crenshaw's Mustang).

Lt Col Harvey J Scandrett, O-399564 MIA 44-72607



457th Fighter Squadron

1/Lt James E Best, O-821775 MIA 44-72584

2/Lt Robert H Griffith, O-829979 MIA 44-72562

2/Lt Robert C Klippel, O-830248 MIA 44-72593

2/Lt Leonard J Kloiber, O-829877 MIA 44-63930

2/Lt William E Saks, O-719438 MIA 44-72885 458th Fighter Squadron

2/Lt Thomas F Harrigan RTD 44-72569

2/Lt Robert B Harvey, O-829857 MIA 44-72553



462nd Fighter Squadron

Capt Gale M Loomis, O-666404 MIA 44-72563

1/Lt Archie C Ridley, O-795639 MIA 44-72608

Capt Lawrence S Smith, O-665237 MIA 44-72601



Headquarters

Capt Edmund M Crenshaw, O-660038 MIA Unknown

Lt Col Harvey J Scandrett, O-399564 MIA 44-72607 The 15th and 21st Fighter Groups also suffered many losses on the same date.

Rescued Lt. Lawrence Grennan 457th - bailed out at 5,000 ft. 10 miles from Iwo

2rd Lt. Thomas Harrigan 458th - rescued by PBY (seaplane) 3 June

note: Harrigan was rescued but was captured and killed by Jap civilians when he had to bail out over Japan a couple of weeks later.

2nd Lt. Arthur A. Burry 45th - 6 days at sea, picked up by Submarine Trutta AIRPOWER, Volume 7, Number 1, page 30, January 1977 By Barrett Tillman Black Friday on the Empire Run by John W. Lambert, 1990 author of "The Long Campaign" and "The Pineapple Air Force: Pearl Harbor to to Tokyo." 1990 John W. Lambert Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 90-060558 ISBN: 0-9625860-0-5 Phalnax Publishing CO. LTD FO #113, HI VII FC, 30 May 45 (SECRET) Mission Report #06-01, HQ. 506th FG, 1 June 45. (Confid.) Exhibit 1. G-2 Periodic Report #68, HQ AGF, 2 June 45, covering period from 311800K to 011800K (SECRET) Page 23, Unit History, 5o6th Ftr Gp, May 45 (SECRET) AAF Form 14, Report of Major Accident, A/C 44-72552, 2nd Lt Lawrence E. Grennan, 457th Ftr Sq. Source of this account: Mission Report #06-01, plus signed statements of Capt Wickman, Capt Anthony, Capt Lumpkins, and others. Name withheld. Mission Report #16?, Hq VII FC, 1 June 45. (Confidential) Col Harper's interview with the CG, VII FC, 27 May 45. Exhibit 2. Published in Honolulu Advertiser., #20674,. 1 June 45. ibid #20675, 2 June 45. Mission Report 167. Hq VII FC, 1 June 45 Extension of "Remarks" under par 8, sub par b, mission report #06-01 Air Sea Rescue — Exhibit 3 ibid, plus news story by Capt Hynes.

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