Kamikaze
mystery
Not
a single shot had been fired, nor had an aircraft attacked a Japanese
bomber that plummeted to the ground in Port Moresby in 1942. Now
Bob Piper has found out new information which helps solve a most
bewildering incident in aviation history.
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Painting
of a Japanese “Nell” bomber by Peter Connor.
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WHILE
the Australian troops and airmen at Port Moresby watched in disbelief,
the lone Japanese “Nell” bomber came out of a cloud, one wing
broke off with an audible crack, and it plummeted to the ground.
As dense black smoke drifted upwards from the impact site the
severed wing continued to drift slowly down. It was one of the
most bewildering incidents in aviation history during the Pacific War.
Not a shot had been fired and not a single Allied aircraft had
attacked the enemy aircraft. The story becomes even more astounding
when it was recently revealed, from Japanese records, that the
crew of the Navy bomber had earlier been captured in the Philippines.
Then, when liberated by its own invading forces, had been sent
on a one-way mission to “self destruct” against Port Moresby defences.
Was this then the first kamikaze mission of World War II, but
using a full crew and aircraft?
Perhaps it was just a prelude of things to come. Later, hundreds
of young Japanese pilots would be asked to hurtle down, with devastating
results, on American and Australian ships as the Allies edged
closer to Japan.
Japanese records, obtained by American historian Henry Sakaida
and recently shared with the writer, now not only tell the full
story of that fateful day, but reveal for the first time the
names of the men on board.
The incident is also recorded in the diaries of the Australian
Air Force’s No. 32 and No. 75 Squadrons and in a report by Flight
Lieutenant S.H. Collie, a Melbourne barrister and intelligence
officer based at Port Moresby in 1942.
In late March, 1942, Japan ruled the skies over New Guinea. Australia
had only a token squadron of Kittyhawk fighters as well as some
Hudson bombers and long-range Catalinas to attempt to stem the
tide.
Meanwhile, enemy fighters and bombers, in ever increasing numbers,
continued regular raids from Lae and Rabaul against Port Moresby
and Horn Island. The first report of the mystery aircraft was
a few minutes before one o’clock on March 31, 1942.
Some thought it was a lone reconnaissance aircraft as it hummed
serenely along at 10,000ft, in and out of fair weather cumulus
cloud, near Seven Mile Strip and some 16kms inland from Port Moresby
town.
Australian P-40 Kittyhawk fight- ers were ordered to intercept
but did not depart. Not a single Army antiaircraft gun fired.
The “Nell” (the Allied code name for the Mitsubishi Type 96 bomber
with two engines and twin tail) had approached from the north-west,
hesitated and turned south-west, then resumed course from the
north- west. Another unusual account of the bomber’s last moments
was later given by a 75SQN fighter pilot, Jack Pettett.
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Pilot
Peter Turnbull was one of the people to see the incident.
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He
was off duty and with fellow pilot Peter Turnbull (killed in action
at Milne Bay in August, 1942) viewed the whole action. He later
recounted that Turnbull, who was a country boy with a sense of
humour, performed an Aboriginal dance and pretended to “point
the bone” (cast a spell) at the incoming bomber.
As the wing broke off and it came spinning down, Turnbull is remembered
as turning to the others around him and exclaiming, “Got the bugger”.
The Japanese crew of the bomber had been involved in an attack
on Clark Field, in the Philippines, on December 12, 1941.
Its left engine was hit by anti-aircraft fire and the aircraft
forced to alight on the northwest side of Mount Arayat.
Subsequently, the entire crew of eight was captured. Meanwhile,
back at base, as the men had failed to return, they were listed
as missing in action and according to naval custom given a one
rank promotion.
As Japanese ground forces overran the Philippines, the men were
discovered and released. This is when things began to become increasingly
embarrassing.
Officially, the men were dead, but here they were back like a
proverbial bad penny with their promoted rank.
Not the best example so early in the war to the rest of the services
and of an instruction of no surrender.
Segregated from other aircrew, for morale purposes, this crew
was continually placed in the most vulnerable position of bomber
formations sent against Australian targets.
But, despite the fury and danger of the battles in which it was
embroiled, the crew just kept coming back.
Finally, when the matter could no longer be tolerated, Admiral
Takajiro Onishi issued an instruction that the bomber crew was
to fly over Port Moresby, with no escort, and a last order: “Do
not return”.
It is said the crew shared a cigarette and drink before setting
out from Lae on the morning of March 31, 1942.
At
12:45 (local time Moresby) a message was received from the bomber
back at Rabaul:
“Finished bombing. All bombs hit mark”. Fifteen minutes later,
another message came on the radio: “We will go in. All around
is clear. Thank you for your kindnesses during our lifetime. Banzai
for the Emperor (Tenno heika).”
It now appears that even though the aircraft was armed, those
bombs – reported as released at 12:45 – were never dropped on
Australian positions. Or were they in fact harmlessly salvoed,
unarmed, when the aircraft deviated slightly over the swamps before
entering Moresby airspace?
Meanwhile, it is reported, other Japanese airmen and groundstaff
back at Rabaul and Lae were silently furious that the men were
given the one-way flight – what a waste of men, training and
equipment.
The Japanese fighter ace Saburo Sakai confirms this in his book.
The subject is also briefly depicted in the 1976 Japanese movie
on Sakai’s life story, though no names are given or the fact that
the wing broke off before their mission could be completed.
To this day, the Japanese believe the bomber crew really did complete
their suicide mission. At the same time, the Australians think
it was just another lightly built Mitsubishi bomber that, they
recorded, fell apart because it was “Made in Japan”.
It has taken 62 years for the full story to be told. Nobody, even
today, knows why the wing suddenly cracked and fell off. It was
certainly not caused by mild atmospheric conditions on the day
or enemy fire.
Was it sabotage? Were vital wing bolts removed or the mainspar
partly sawn through, under orders, before the bomber departed?
It would seem an engineering flaw with odds beyond comprehension
that the wing in fact did break off just moments before the aircraft
was due to self-destruct.
Perhaps that part of the mystery will never be solved.
There has also been some mention in Japanese records that the
crew in fact were not actually captured by the Americans but lived
with Filipino village people before the area was taken by incoming
Japanese forces.
When this point was raised with their high command, however, it
was apparently dismissed as being irrelevant.
Those
aboard the bomber were:
