Monotony was almost as great an enemy as the Jap during the campaign in the islands, and although many and varied were the attempts to cure boredom, perhaps Johnny Bull and 'Chuckles' Eccles found the secret. The following story is their cure for monotony, but the method adopted, for numerous reasons, is not recommended.

It was on Nissan Island after the fighting had finished, and Johnny had been detailed to accompany the unit canteen manager, who was bound for the base dry canteen depot, to carry out his periodical replenishing of stock. These two were passing the bomber strip and noticed that a squadron of B 24s (Liberators) had recently landed, so in true New Zealand style, they decided to have a look. Johnny was lured, perhaps, into the control cabin of one of the planes by Dan, the crew chief, who proceeded to explain everything. The inevitable happened, for Johnny asked Dan whether there was any chance of obtaining a test flight, but Dan said that the bomber was leaving on a patrol bombing mission at 7 o'clock the following morning, and there was room for two more, if Johnny and his 'buddy' wanted a flight. Johnny jumped at the offer, but the canteen manager, a man of sublime intelligence decided against the idea. Johnny decided to get somebody else, and made for 'Chuckles' whom he knew would readily fall in with his plans, and which was the case.

At 6 o'clock the following morning Johnny and 'Chuckles' left their tents secretly, for these flights (or flights of any description) were contrary to divisional orders. They made their way down to the bomber strip and were greeted by Dan, who had page 54them signed on for the flight as gunners, and then introduced them to the rest of the crew. These were: the 'Skipper,' whom the crew practically worshipped; 'Mister' the co-pilot; 'Snowy' the navigator; John the wireless operator; 'Darky' the first mate; Mendoza, a little Spaniard with an everlasting grin who was the tail gunner; and Bob and 'Junior,' the two waist gunners. 'Dixie' was the name of the plane. Apart from the crew she carried 2600 gallons of fuel, and over three tons of bombs. The crew was now aboard, and the control tower had signalled for the plane to takeoff. For both safety and equilibrium, everyone was piled on to the small command deck, and with a thunderous roar 'Dixie' commenced her career down the strip, missing the palms by inches as she soared out over the lagoon.

By this time, Johnny and 'Chuckles' were allowed to leave the command deck and go forward to the bombardier's bay. The plane had climbed to 10,000 feet, and the view was magnificent. The shadows of the scattered clouds cast on the water below, gave the appearance of a myriad tiny islands. Occasionally, a real island appeared, a lovely setting of green fringed by the pure whiteness of the coral and set in the vivid blue of the sea. At last it was time for the skipper to turn on the last leg of his triangular course, and head for home. There had been no sign of the enemy and the skipper was 'browned off.'

'Wal, fellas,' he said, speaking through the intercommunication system, 'there's a little island called Lamotrek just a few miles further north, what do you say we go take a look?'

Everyone seemed to agree, and the plane swung round and headed for a little green smudge, which could be seen in the distance. Lamotrek, slightly north-west of Truk, as viewed from the air consists of two islands, the largest of which is shaped like a deep horseshoe, and is covered with thick bush at the closed end and fades into mere coral fingers at the open end. According to the navigator the island was uninhabited, but as the plane drew near there was a sudden yell from Dan, who had sighted a big square building partially obscured by jungle, and then a second later a row of seaplanes was seen lined up on the beach. These planes were camouflaged beautifully for the jungle, but there they were lined up on the beach, a perfect target. On the pure whiteness of the coral sand they stood out clearly against a severely contrasting background. Everyone was delighted at the sight and page 55the plane carried on past the island and then swung round and came in from the north with a steep power dive. Over the line of beached planes 'Dixie' streaked, at an altitude of 50 feet, and every one of her ten 5 guns blazed away. When the bombs went every man could feel the plane shudder, pitch about, and then right herself, as the skipper fought with the controls. The Japs had been caught napping for not one round of ack-ack was fired. The buildings were well and truly strafed and the radio control tower was not forgotten. Here one Nip, finding his cabin aloft a little too warm, decided to evacuate down the ladder. He had barely left the top rung before he collected a burst of 5s right in the middle, and a laughable figure he cut as he somersaulted to the ground 30 feet below.

That was the first of the four runs the skipper made on the target, but in the subsequent runs the Nips were not so backward with their flak. They threw up everything, but it did not save them for 'Dixie,' with her machine-guns blazing and bombs dropping, was on the mark every time. The place was a blazing inferno. Seven of the planes on the beach ceased to exist, whilst the other two were very much the worse for wear. Apparently a petrol dump had been blown up, and the buildings were rapidly being consumed by the fire. 'Dixie,' at the end of the third run, had a lot in common with a pepper pot. The port outboard engine was out, and was spewing forth dense smoke in an alarming manner. The navigator's instrument panel was badly damaged, the port inboard engine was beginning to show signs of wear, and little holes were everywhere in the fuselage. Despite the fact that only three motors were running the skipper decided to go in and drop the two remaining bombs. He went in, at the usual 50 feet, and again through a gauntlet of lead. The trees whirled past underneath, almost close enough to touch, and as the bombs exploded the plane seemed to lift and then, bumping and jarring, headed down straight for the sea. All thought this was the end, and it almost came as a surprise when only a few feet from the water the skipper regained control and lifted her gradually away.

'Phew,' breathed Dan into his microphone,' that was close— anyone hit ? '

By incredibly good fortune no one had been touched, and looking back on the island, as the plane struggled gamely away, the crew could see pillars of smoke rising hundreds of feet into page 56the air. Matters were still very serious but each man wore a happy smile of satisfaction. During the raid Johnny had charge of the movie camera, and he was able to get some good shots before the smoke from the damaged motor made it impossible to use the camera.

'Dixie' was doing her best, but could only manage a speed of 90 knots, hardly more than flying speed, and could get no higher than a thousand feet. Struggling along so slowly, and more or less helpless, she would have been easy prey had an enemy fighter been sent from Truk, but apparently the raid had been thorough and no message could be sent, for the wounded plane was not molested. The skipper decided that in order to get the plane back safely it would be necessary, firstly, to head for Emirau Island instead of Nissan Island and, secondly, to undertake the dangerous job of transferring petrol from the dead engine's tank to the main tank. This job was done by 'Darky' and Dan, and apart from 'Darky' having his stomach burned by the raw spirit, was acomplished without mishap. Emirau, nearer by 300 miles than Nissan, was 600 miles away, and it was not until 6 o'clock in the evening that it was sighted. Nothing could have looked more beautiful, and no sight more appreciated than this little patch of solid ground, taken from the Japs a short time before. Although trouble was expected, the landing was made without mishap and the crew was happily relieved. The natives and men of a marine air group were truly startled to see a plane as big as a Liberator land on their tiny fighter strip, and it wasn't long before they were swarming around, poking fingers through the holes in the fuselage, and wondering how a plane with so many air vents could fly.

The crew climbed out of the plane and were glad to have their feet on solid ground. Last of all, out came Johnny and 'Chuckles,' and this caused more questions. 'What kind of an air crew is it which flies wearing black berets,' they all asked, and they had to be told that the two stowaways were members of a New Zealand tank squadron, which was at present in the Pacific.

The next step was to go to intelligence and report. The skipper took the co-pilot, Mendoza, and Johnny and 'Chuckles,' and each in turn gave the story of the raid. When this was done all of them were given a hot meal, and then shown to their sleeping quarters. The skipper was called away to receive thecongratula-page 57tions of Major Joe Foss, the American air ace, and shortly afterwards he returned with a small bottle of brandy for each man. Thereafter there followed a convivial evening. The night air was filled with sounds of laughter and raucous singing, and many were the tales that were told. In the meantime, the disappearance of Johnny and 'Chuckles' was made known to their troop officer back on Nissan Island. All would have been in order had they returned that day, as was expected, but when they failed to turn up the fact had to be conveyed to the officer commanding the squadron. Enquiries were made at the bomber squadron who reported that the plane which had taken the two New Zealand boys had failed to return. The next morning the matter had to be reported to divisional headquarters, and the OC, much to his regret, gave the sorry details.

At approximately the same time as headquarters was approached, a plane, in response to a wireless message, had been sent from Nissan Island to convey the wanderers home. After a sightseeing tour round Emirau, they all took a last fond look at 'Dixie' and climbed aboard the new ship for the three hours' return flight. It was an uneventful trip even although the plane passed within easy sight of the bomb-pocked Jap aerodrome on New Ireland, and it was not long before the crew stood on the strip, which they had left the morning before. After the whole intelligence procedure had been gone through again, the pair who had been playing truant were able to return to their own camp. They were given a rousing reception from the boys of the squadron, but the worst was to come, for it was necessary to place both men on charge for being absent without leave for 24 hours. Very soon the machinery was in motion, and Johnny and 'Chuckles' stood hatless in front of the major commanding the squadron. They had disobeyed orders; they had to be punished—and they were fined 30 dollars (22 days' pay). They were marched out from the orderly room, given their hats and dismissed. Back to their tents they went and were soon surrounded by a crowd of their mates, who wanted the story.

Later on, the commanding officer, unable to withstand his curiosity, decided to visit the boys and find out the story of the flight. The two adventurers, annoyed at being fined the 30 dollars, only replied: 'Well, if you want to know what happened, it will cost you 30 bucks.'

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This story would be incomplete if mention was not made of the memorial plaque erected in honour of the flight. One of our boys made a flat slab in concrete about three inches in thickness, and there on the camp site at Nissan it lies on top of the ground. The jungle may grow over it but will not obliterate the words carved on the plaque: