The field telephone hanging at the head of my bed sounded off in the wee hours and I awoke with a start, grabbed the phone and fumbled around locating a pencil and paper to take down the next days mission order from 5th Fighter Command. Filling in as squadron operations officer, it was my responsibility to select the pilots and notify the flight line to have the aircraft ready.  A large shipping convoy of the bad guys was sighted proceeding towards Ormoc Bay, located on the southern coast of Leyte Island, presumably to off load personnel and supplies for the Japanese troops fighting in the center of the island.  B-25s were going to make low-level attacks on the surface vessels and needed fighter cover.  These medium bombers were equipped with forward firing 50 caliber machineguns as well as a variety of bombay ordnance.  There were quite a number of Nip fighters on the Islands located just west of Leyte.  Ormoc Bay was well within their range.

This looked like a mission with a pretty good chance of getting into a fight.  I made out the pilot schedule with myself leading the squadron and laid back to grab some more sleep.  I would wake up the scheduled pilots later in the morning, giving us all time to grab a fast breakfast and get off about first light.  I got up and was about to send a runner to wake up the troops when the phone rang again and it was the Group commander, Colonel Charles MacDonald.  He said "PJ would you mind if I flew on this mornings mission with your squadron".  I mean here is this full bull colonel, quadruple fighter ace, my Group commander asking me, a Captain, if he could fly with us. It just never occurred to me to say "Golly Colonel, I have already made out the schedule, try me again maybe tomorrow," yeah sure.  So after saying "yes Sir, you got it, you will be Clover red leader and I will take white flight", I so rearranged the schedule.  Later I headed out with the other pilots for the chow tent.  The coffee smelled pretty good but that is the best you could say about the entire powdered egg and bully beef breakfast experience. But it all provided fuel for the ole bod.

It was still dark when we arrived via jeeps and unloaded the pilots at their birds positioned along the runway.  They had not yet constructed any revetments and the aircraft were sitting out in the open, spaced the length of the strip. I checked out my personal equipment, making sure I had a full canteen of drinking water to stow by my seat, and double-checked to be sure I had hand loaded a 45-caliber bird shot round into the chamber of my 45.  The normal Colt 45-pistol clip was loaded with ball ammunition.  However we carried a few loose rounds of birdshot.  In a jungle survival situation, it would be difficult to hit a bird or small animal with a normal 45-caliber slug, so they made a cardboard type nose on the shell casing and filled it with birdshot.  In that it was cardboard it would not automatically feed from the ammo clip so it had to be hand inserted into the gun barrel chamber.  I just made it a habit of putting a round in the chamber.  Little did I realize how having that bird shot in my gun would effect my life, much later, as I scrambled to survive in hostile territory.  I’m here to tell you that birdshot may work great on birds but it isn’t worth a damn on humans.

After the walk around inspection I got strapped in with the help of my crew chief and was looking up to close the canopy when what do you know.  There maybe 3 to 400 feet up was a Zero making a bomb run.  He cut loose the para-frag bomblets hanging under each wing and I watched as they sailed overhead and landed further down the flight line.  A flight of Zeros had glided in with reduced power and the triple-A guys positioned around the runway never spotted them until they were right on us.  The ground gunners did get a few ineffective rounds off as the fighters pulled up and headed out but no hits were detected. To this day I don’t understand why the Nips did not make a strafing run at our aircraft.  They would not only have bagged a few birds but maybe some jocks as well.  But this was not the first time I was surprised by the inexplicable tactics often employed by the Japanese.  None of our aircraft were damaged. Half of the bomblets did not even arm and detonate.  It was quickly determined that the runway was clear so Col. Mac called for engine start and we all formed up and took off in two ship formations and joined up into the 4 flights of 4.  The sun was just starting to show as we climbed to altitude heading for the port city of Ormoc on Ormoc Bay.  We were formed in the traditional fingertip formation, Colonel Mac’s red flight in the lead with my white flight to his right and green and blue flights behind and to the left. I detached my oxygen mask as we approached 10,000 feet to take a last swig of water before getting to altitude and into the target area.  Little did I know that was REALLY my last swig of water for some time?

We settled in at 25,000 feet as we arrived over Ormoc.  It was not too far back to Dulag and I could make it out in the distance.  We had no sooner pulled power back to loiter speed when someone called out "bogey ten o’clock low".  I looked to my left and picked up this lone aircraft just as Clover Red Leader dove toward the unknown.  After clearing my guns I saw Clover leader close on the now identified bandit.  Moments later the Nip pilot was out of his aircraft, hanging under his deployed chute.  I later, much later, kidded Colonel Mac that I am not sure he should get credit for that downed aircraft.  I think that Nip looked up saw all those P-38 and said to hell with it and went over the side.  Why not, he was over his own Navy.  A parachute jump and being picked up by your own people beats being blown up by attacking fighters. Actually Col. Mac did hit him with a good burst, but that Nip sure didn’t waste any time getting out of that airplane.  The P-38 had four fifty-caliber machine guns and a 20-millimeter cannon all located in the nose of the aircraft and converging into a 6-inch circle. When all those slugs, some armor piercing, some incendiary, some ball poured into a target, the damage was considerable.  Somebody later said they saw two bogeys, but if there were two the other one bugged out rather smartly.  I remember only seeing the one.

The next radio transmission came from Colonel Mac.  The ground crews had failed to adequately refuel his bird.  He did not have enough gas to hang around much longer.  He called for me to take over lead as he returned to base to get refueled; hoping to get back in time to see some more action.

After carefully scanning the skies for any more aircraft I settled the squadron back to a loiter throttle setting to conserve fuel.  We could see the Japanese navy below with the fighting ships flanked around the merchantmen and there were a bunch of them.  It looked like the entire Japanese fleet was down there.  It wasn’t long before the B-25s checked in and prepared to make their runs on the various targets.  About that same time I spotted a flight of about a dozen Tonys approaching from the west.  They were flying just under a thin, stratus cloud layer.  The Tony was an inline engine fighter reminiscent of the German ME109.  It was arguably their most formidable fighter, although not nearly as maneuverable as the various, lighter Zero series fighters. We never considered trying to turn with a Zero, but with our newly installed maneuver flaps it was a little different story against the Tony.  We just had to employ different tactics against this bird.

It became obvious that they did not see us as I circled around to the rear of their formation staying just above the cloud cover.  I started in and flew up the V and knocked off the flight lead.  From then on it was one big old fashioned dogfight.  I was just about to line up on another Nip as he broke away to my right when I felt this horrendous crash and my airspeed suddenly went from 300 plus to about zero.  I realized the worst fear all pilots hoped would never happen. A mid-air collision.  I was hoping I could get the bird back over home plate, but when I manipulated the controls, nothing happened.  I looked up in the rear view mirror, I saw both tail booms were gone.  Next the right engine fell out and fire spread over the canopy. It was then I knew this was not my day.  I had to get out before this thing blew up.  I released the canopy and as a result, immediately lost my helmet.  I had neglected to secure the chinstrap.  As I stood up to go over the side the whole airplane exploded and I went out with a real bang.  I had rather bad flash burns but was in complete command of my faculties as I free fell towards the water, some 15 or 20,000 feet below.  After purposely dropping below the fight to avoid being hit or strafed by any of the Japanese fighters, I deployed my seat pack parachute.  It really worked great and I started gently floating downward.  I suddenly noted another chute just above me.  It was a Japanese pilot who was in the same situation as me.  I was concerned about him getting into the water before me and maybe shooting at me as I came down.  He was obviously coming down faster than I was.  I believe the Japanese employed a smaller parachute, in any event he was definitely descending much more rapidly.  I thought my best course was to dump the air out of my chute and free fall for a while.  I pulled down and gathered in a liner and all the air dumped out of my canopy.  It was like stepping off of a forty-story building. I shot toward the water and I fought to get the parachute pieces out from between my legs and the canopy finally deployed checking my dash towards the sea.  I was satisfied to let that Nip pilot beat me down for I really wasn’t too hot to take another downward plunge with that parachute wrapped all around my legs.  Turns out that Japanese pilot was evidently dead for I watched him hit the water and disappear under his parachute and not reemerge.  I have been told that the Japanese had lanyards attached so their chutes automatically opened when they vacated the airplane.  So he may have been incapacitated as soon as he left his bird.

As I continued my descent I soon entered the line of fire of what seemed like every Japanese man of war in their Navy.  They obviously were not shooting at me but I took little joy in realizing that if I got hit it was purely by accident. All of the Navy vessels were underway at flank speed and they were firing at the attacking aircraft.  As I floated over the top of one man of war, I was close enough to make out the faces of the crewmen.  I don’t believe they even noticed me, as they were so intent on warding off the attacking B-25s.  As I approached the water the Japanese ships were almost out of sight as they steamed full speed to the south.  Before hitting the water I slipped out of my chute seat, still holding on to the harness, and sort of dangled below. As my feet touched the water I released the chute and let it floated over and away from me.  I inflated one side of my Mae West paddled over to the seat pack, actuated the CO2 bottle, inflated the one-man dinghy and climbed aboard.  By now the Japanese vessels were no where to be seen. However, here came a badly shot up B-25 with the underside of the fuselage engulfed in flames.  I felt sorry for the guys but looked forward to having some company, as they ditched not a hundred yards from me.  I waited as the aircraft slowly filled with water and slipped beneath the waves with no sign of any personnel.  They had either all bailed out someplace or went down with the bird.  The aircraft made such a nice water landing I could not believe it did not have someone at the controls. So my bad luck was continuing.

I immediately found and deployed the sea anchor that was attached to the dinghy.  Next to the raft itself, that sea anchor was the single most important piece of gear I had.  Without it there was no way to keep that life raft right side up with the swells prevalent in the open ocean.  I next started checking my survival gear that was contained in the seat portion of our parachutes. Unfortunately I had removed several items because they had become so uncomfortable to sit on.  Like the can of water was not there.  I did have a small first aid kit containing some sulfa powder that I sprinkled on my first and second-degree hands, arms and facial burns.  All of my hair had burned off when I lost my helmet and of course I was flying with my sleeves rolled up so my arms got pretty scorched too.  After deploying the sea anchor the appropriate distance and cutting loose the parachute shrouds I retained a small piece of parachute and lay back to enjoy the cruise.  There certainly was nothing I could do except wait it out.

It was in the afternoon when I heard noises.  I looked to the south and the horizon was full of ship masts, antennas etc.  The Japanese Navy was heading back north.  It was not long until I was sitting right smack in the middle of the entire fleet.  As soon as they got close, I lay down and played dead, with my most badly blackened arm hanging out.  One of the smaller navy vessels, destroyer escort perhaps, cut its engines came along side and I could hear them talking.  I had no idea what to do other than just lie there.  I thought at least I am going to get a drink of water. Suddenly one of their large guns fired right above me. It startled me so much I stood up, and there I was staring at this Japanese sailor who was hanging from a rope ladder and looked more surprised than I did.  At the same time I immediately fell into the water (there is no way to remain standing in a one-man life raft).  The engines of the Japanese vessel roared to life and she inexplicably got underway.

I never saw any attacking aircraft but something scared them off and they did not want to waste anymore time on me and they high-tailed it out of there. A sailor on the fan tail tried to hose me down with a light caliber machine gun and just barely creased the back of my scalp.  I was so thirsty by that time I almost wished they had picked me up.

As night fell so did my spirits.  I had no idea as to where I was drifting, and I knew any search and rescue attempts in my behalf would have to wait ‘til daylight.

After a fitful night to include sharks circling and feeding on fish that had gathered under my life raft, I greeted the sunrise with great anticipation.  Late in the morning I heard the distant noise of an aircraft.  I couldn’t located it yet for the sun was so bright and my eyes were full of salt and blackened from the aircraft explosion, but I could tell it was circling for the noise would increase then slowly decrease then increase again.  Suddenly the noise increased markedly and I suddenly noticed the water boiling towards me and realized this guy was making a strafing run at me.  I flipped my raft upside down and swam away from it.  He managed to put a hole in my raft but only made the one pass before departing the area.  I still had a lot of floatation from my life raft by laying on it with my feet dragging in the water.  So all was well again.  I found out later much later, that the 433rd squadron, few a search mission looking for me.  It was led by Jack Purdy and I never saw them and of course they never saw me.  Strange that that Nip fighter could find me but not anyone in the 433rd.  Jack tells the story that during our last R&R to Sydney Australia, I had stolen his girl, so he wasn’t all the hot about finding me anyway.  Jack and I still laugh about that, but it was not so funny at the time.

By late afternoon, judging from the sun position, I saw land.  It turned out to be the West Coast of the Island of Leyte.  As I drifted shoreward, I noticed a canoe of sorts, referred to by the Filipinos as a "banka" with a single person aboard.  From what I could make out, he was a young Filipino.  After coming to about 50 meters from me, he turned and immediately paddled for shore.  I had no idea if he was friend or foe, but assumed I would have to treat all as foes at the outset.  I was rather incoherent, suffering from shock.  The wind and current continued to push me towards land.  As I approached the beach I caught a wave and surfed up onto the beach as two boats were approaching from opposite directions.  I sighted what looked like a trail so I staggered several meters inland.  I sat down along side the pathway. Those two days of exposure plus my burns had taken its toll; I was really feeling weak.  There was some shooting going on along the beach and soon a single man approached.  It was getting dark. I had crawled a few yards off the beaten path and hid behind a large elephant ear type leaf.  The man stopped right in front of me.  I knew I could not stay quiet and I was feeling faint.  I noiselessly removed my 45 from its shoulder holster and aimed the gun at the back of his head and squeezed off a round. Unfortunately, or really fortunately, the round that was in the chamber was the birdshot round. However, after being in the water for so long, the cardboard had gotten wet and all of the shot had run out. So all I did when I fired was hear a very subdued "pop" and I hit my target in the back of his head with a wet piece of cardboard packing of some sort.  Following my days at sea, plus my burns, I was sort of out of it from shock, but now I was really in shock when I realized that the only damage I did to this gent was make him angry.  Fortunately he was a Filipino guerrilla.  He pulled out his machetti, chopped down the foliage that was my over and I hit ht ground.  I recognized him as a Filipino and shouted "Americano, Americano" He reply was "why didn’t you say you were an American" in perfect English.

Days later at the guerrilla aid station one of them came to shave the one side of my face that was not too badly burned.  He had a long straight edge razor and as he was shaving around my throat he said, "Do you recognize me" I apologized to him and said no I’m sorry but I don’t remember you.  As he deftly wielded that straight edge around my throat area he said, "I’m the one you tried to shoot in the back of the head last week".

Not only had I tried to kill the one who rescued me but, will wonders never cease, this guerrilla, in the Philippines, was from my hometown, Seattle, Washington.  His family had to leave the states during the depression.  Here was the only man I had met from Seattle during my tour and I had tried to blow his head off.  Small world.  He brought me a monkey.  We immediately named her Ormoc. Ormoc stayed with me until the end of the war.

The guerrillas were very organized and composed of many from the US army who had survived the Battaan death march and escaped.  The commander was a Major Nazarro, tall handsome man, who ran a tight ship.  He had organized a very structured unit, with a specific chain of command.  He had patrols formed and would make raids on any Japanese’s army personnel entering his area of operation. His intelligence sources were comprised of the civilians who would appraise his field commanders of Japanese presence.  His communications system was composed of young runners who would run all day and night delivering messages and reports from his wide spread field commanders, not unlike our famous pony express of the early West, except these young men were on foot. They would run non-stop for a day or so, then after completing their mission would actually sleep solid for two days or more.  He had established a medical unit with a doctor and nurses.  He received supplies from an occasional submarine sent in courtesy of General Douglas MacArthur himself.

Of course the guerrillas did not want the Japanese to know that an American was in their midst so I was dressed as a native.  Straw hat and all.  I was assigned two bodyguards after I healed sufficiently to leave the hospital bed. . I had not been really seriously injured, just about one eighth of my skin had burned off. The nurses bathed my burns with a solution of boiled coconut oil mixed with the sulfa powder provided via the submarine.  After about two weeks of this treatment, I still looked like warmed over death, but felt pretty good and was ready for some activities.

I accompanied the commander on several visits to small barrios to show the Filipino habitants that here was the first indication of General MacArthur’s fulfillment of his promise to return.  As the Japanese sent transports to Ormoc loaded with troop replacements and supplies, our B-25s would hit them and we could witness the engagement right off of our beach.  A lot of good stuff would wash ashore along with surviving Japanese soldiers.  We would go through the debris to salvage anything useful.  The Japanese soldiers were not so fortunate.  They would be shot before they reached dry land to ensure their bodies would be washed out to sea with the next tide.  Bodies that did wash up on shore were searched, and any cigarettes removed and set out to dry and, of course, gold teeth were collected.

The military situation on Leyte was pretty much like this…The US forces had landed and were secure occupying the eastern portion of the island; the Japanese held the center of the island with the port of Ormoc on the south end; and the Filipino Guerrillas were located on the west shore.  The Filipinos actually held no specific land areas but roamed about hitting Japanese patrols that ventured into the area. As soon as the US forces started their invasion at Ormoc, the Japanese retreated before the US 1st Cavalry into the Filipino AO.A's.  Japanese forces entered the Filipino area of operation the guerilla’s organization became fractured and we all split up into small units. We avoided any contacts with Japanese and were pretty much on the run and in hiding. After a week or so I made contact with two United States Army Alamo Scouts. They had been inserted into the area several days ago.  The concept of Alamo Scouts was to take two man teams and insert them into unknown areas prior to the committing large scale, invading troops.  The two scouts I contacted radioed to get help to get me out.  Prior to finding these scouts I was surviving on only what Ormoc and I could get out of the jungle and was down to well less than 100 pounds.