At 7.00 P.M. on the night of February 25, 1941, Capt. Boyd Hubbard Jr., 28, of Los Angeles, CA, piloted B-18 #36-446, a relatively new plane delivered to the Army Air Corps on April 15, 1938, down the Hickam Field runway on the Island of Oahu, part of a flight of four B-18s of the 50th Reconnaissance Squadron, 11th Bombardment Group, intending to fly to Hilo, on the island of Hawai'i, and back for the purpose of practicing night navigation. On board were co-pilot Francis R. Thompson, 21, of El Reno, OK; Engineer Joseph B. Paulhamus,24, of Williamsport, PA; radio operator William Cohn, 21, of Brooklyn, NY; plus Fred C. Seeger, 25, of Forest River, IL and Robert R. Stephens, 22 (or 20 in other reports), of Albuquerque, NM as passengers.

On the eastern side of Maui they ran into heavy cloud cover and were forced to climb to 7000 feet to get above the clouds; however, they were able to spot the beacon at Suiter Field at Upolu Point, on the north tip of Hawai'i island. Through the darkness, they could see Hawai'i's great mountains, Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, rising serenely above the clouds to over 13,000 feet. They were also following a radio beacon from Hilo, indicating that they were flying just off the coastline. About half way down the coast between Upolu Point and Hilo, at around 8:15, suddenly "a terrific vibration set up", according to Capt. Hubbard.

The plane had been running on gas from the bomb bay tank, as the fuel indicator was suspected of being faulty and they wished to test it. Initially, Capt. Hubbard suspected they were out of gas in the bomb bay tank, and so he immediately switched to the #4 tank, but as the vibration continued and the fuel pressure was O.K., he realized it was definitely the left engine. Retarding the throttle and bringing the left engine prop to high pitch reduced the engine vibrations to about two per second, but the vibrations were so bad he was worried that the engine would be torn off, so he applied the prop brake. As weather conditions in Hilo were unknown, but the clouds had been getting steadily thicker the further they went, he decided to turn the airplane around and try to make it back to Maui, where conditions were clear, or at least to Upolu Point. As he turned 180 degrees, the last thing they saw was the lights of one of the following airplanes passing them, then they sank into the thick clouds.

After cutting off the fuel to the left engine and balancing the plane for single engine operation, "which was extremely difficult while on instruments", the decision was made to dump the bomb bay fuel tanks. The drag of the open bomb bay doors caused the plane to lose about 1500 feet in altitude, and in addition in the distraction of this operation the plane turned about 180 degrees to the left. Capt. Hubbard "recovered from this and turned back to a westerly heading", i.e. 270 degrees.

During the next few minutes Capt. Hubbard found that any time he was distracted he would turn to the left, into the bad engine. In the five minutes after releasing the bomb bay tanks, they had lost altitude from 7000 feet to just above 4000 feet. Returning his attention to flying the plane, he was able to maintain course at 90 to 100 MPH but was losing altitude at a rate of 100 to 200 feet per minute. However, he was not worried at that time about losing altitude since he thought they were over the ocean and as he felt they "would break out underneath the overcast at approximately 3000 feet along the north shore of Hawai'i. However, when we reached about 3300 feet, we made every effort to maintain this altitude, even with the object of seeing if I could get it to climb a little for my own benefit and knowledge that later on I could do it, and found it impossible to do so."

Then "At this time Lieut. Kramer called again and the co-pilot, Lieut. Thompson answered that we were at 3200 feet, still on instruments and doing O.K., but before he could hang up the microphone we had hit.I realized that the left wing had struck something, and yelled 'here we go-----!!!!!" The crash was a very rapid continuous slowing down with very few extreme shocks until the final last blow which was sideways and did not feel extremely bad. In fact, it took me a few seconds to realize she was all through. This was about 8:30 P.M."

Capt. Hubbard's intent was to remain offshore and, if necessary, effect a water landing. However, the numerous times the plane had veered to the left, and the strong north wind, had caused them to actually be about three miles inland. They crashed at about the 3200 foot elevation on Laupahoehoe 2, slowed by the small trees and dense vegetation before eventually falling into Punalulu gulch.

Capt. Hubbard stated "Sergeant Paulhamus, the engineer, opened the overhead hatch and flashed his light down the wing. We both looked down and saw the position of the airplane with the right wingtip at the bottom of a ravine, (and at that time it looked like at least 400 feet to the bottom) so I yelled for them to get out the rear door, which was then the top side.

"By the time I had got back three men were out and had slid down the tail of the airplane into the creek. Realizing that if she hadn't caught fire by now it wasn't going to, I called for them to return to the airplane, because it was raining and I wished to check on their condition."

None of the men were seriously injured, which, according to the Accident Classification Committee, "may be considered miraculous". Doubtless the level heading, the level top of the ridge where they "landed", and the entangling vegetation with no large trees contributed to this 'miracle'. Only Stephens was noted as receiving minor injuries, "a deep cut to his forehead", although Lieut. Thompson was said by Capt. Hubbard to have suffered "a short period of unconsciousness". Private Seeger, flying as observer in the front turret, had the sense to abandon his post when he saw the left engine was out, positioning himself instead in the rear of the plane, which likely saved his life.

After suffering a cold and uncomfortable night, unable to smoke because "the gasoline fumes were so bad" and kept warm with two parachutes, "At daybreak Private Seeger managed to climb out the front escape hatch across the nose of the airplane and up the side of the ravine to the area we had cleared while crashing." By about 8:00 the ceiling had lifted, and Seeger could see the distant ocean. Since there was no sugarcane between them and the ocean, Capt. Hubbard knew that they had crashed between the ends of the roads from the Hilo and Upolu directions, the most remote stretch of coastline in Hawai'i. Fortunately by 8:45 they spotted a plane piloted by Col. William E. Farthing, commander of the 5th Bombardment Group, that was looking for them. Col. Farthing dipped his wings after they fired a flare, so they knew they had been found.

Starting at 12:15 A.M. on February 26, four navel vessels and three airplanes executed a search formation between Hawai'i and Maui looking for the downed plane, which was presumed to have made a water landing. The search continued and expanded, with 24 planes leaving Hickam Field at dawn. The plane was found about 45 minutes after the clouds lifted enough to provide visibility. However, the crew was not "out of the woods" yet - although at that time there was a government trail from the end of the road at Pololu to the edge of our ahupua'a of Laupahoehoe, our property at that time was as untracked as it is today. A search party set out to find them, but was not even to the end of the government trail by nightfall. Another rescue party, coming (as we did) over the top of the mountain, "was forced to abandon the search... due to the tremendous difficulties offered by the terrain" according to a newspaper report. A third rescue party was reported to have been dropped by two Coast Guard vessels in Waimanu valley, but while the results of this effort were not reported, it would have been nearly impossible to reach the site of the crash from Waimanu.

Luckily for the crashed airmen, Army planes dropped food, blankets, and even hot coffee to them, so they spent the second night in relative comfort. The next day, the rescue party had nearly given up when the fliers heard their revolver shots and fired a machine gun from the plane in response. By nightfall they had made it back to the cabin near the end of the government trail, and the next day (the third after the crash) finally made it back to the road at noon.

Except for Private Stephens, that is - the only person injured. He was left at the plane to guard the radio equipment and guns, which were all that was later salvaged, due to the extreme inaccessibility of the terrain. However, it is clear throughout the accident report that the primary concern was the bomb sight stabilizer. Apparently this was an extremely critical piece of top-secret equipment. Capt. Hubbard is clear that he, personally, ensured that it was immediately salvaged from the wreck, and that it never left his sight on the journey out.

The Army originally contemplated dismantling the crashed Bolo and packing the pieces out on mules. However, the terrain encountered soon convinced them that this would be impossible, and the plane was abandoned to the jungle. Many years later, access by helicopter became possible, and unfortunately any of the smaller parts that could be stolen disappeared. For example, I heard that a group calling themselves the "Air Pirates" took the top turret in the 1980s, and traded it to what is now called the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force in Dayton, OH for parts they needed for other planes. My understanding is that this turret from our Bolo now resides at the Pima Air and Space Museum in Tucson, AZ, displayed by the museum's B-18A, a plane that the turret from the B-18 does not fit. The circular hole visible behind the door in the photo above is where this turret belongs.

This type of "salvage" (theft) is a shame, because it is quite possible that the B-18 Bolo on our land in Hawai'i is the last, intact WW2 plane wreck remaining in situ above the water. It is almost certainly the only remaining intact crashed plane on land in the United States, and is one of only two B-18s known to exist (although there are also two each known B-18As and B-18Bs). The other B-18 can be seen at the Castle Air Museum in Atwater, CA.

HT to Nicholas Veronico's "Hidden Warbirds" for information in last two paragraphs.

(Edited to correct "Army Air force" to, of course, Army Air Corps)