December 8th, 1941, NAS Sand Point

December 8th, 1941, NAS Sand Point P2

Copyright Catcher78 All rights reserved

Author's Notes: This is a true story involving my family in times of desperate peril as Americans were being rallied to the fight against Hitler's Nazis, Mussolini's Italian Fascists and The Japanese Empire by Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The author was also stationed at NAS Sand Point while in the Naval Reserves. This is an homage to W. E. B Griffin.

Characters:

Lieutenant Commander J. G. Big Joe Benedict U. S. Navy Pilot

Petty Officer First Class Gus Genzer Gunner's mate

Chief Petty Officer Daniel Morgan Gunner's mate

Ensign Archibald Turner III U. S. Navy Pilot

Lieutenant Jeff Kembel Navigator

Petty Officer second class Bob Pacheco, engineer radioman

Second Lieutenant Tim Simpson USMC

Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack Simpson USMC

Sini Benedict wife and mother

Bill Benedict Cousin Fullback University of Washington

Hazel Benedict Bill's mother and lonely wife

Part one was here.

The morning of December 10, 1941, having been at Kaneohe, overnight, my new crew, Ensign Archie Turner, co-pilot, Lieutenant Jeff Kimbel navigator, Second Class Petty Officer, Bob Pacheco engineer and radio man, First Class Petty Officer Gus Genzer gunner's mate and Senior Chief Petty Officer Dan Morgan gunner's mate, along with passengers Second Lieutenant Tim Simpson USMC and Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack Simpson USMC, replete with M1903 bolt action rifle and a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR). Lieutenant Simpson was also a pilot.

Our intention was to fly from Pearl to Manila, Philippines to pick up critical servicemen and to return to Pearl Harbor expeditiously. The journey was forty six hundred miles, via stops at Midway Island and Guam allowing refueling and food. Generally, the winds are such that we would be flying into headwinds, this time of year. Thirty seven hours of flight time, give or take, headwinds, we got off the water with twenty nine thousand two hundred pounds which was good.

"Navigator to Pilot, set course 195.82."

"Pilot to Co-pilot set course as directed."

He looked startled, but replied, "Aye Aye Sir, turning to port to course 195.82, I have the controls."

"Pilot to Co-pilot, hands off."

On the intercom, "Do I call you Archibald, or Archie."

He responded, "As the Commander pleases, "which was kind of starchy. I looked at his finger on his right hand and he had an academy ring, which by definition meant he held me as a ROTC grad or a God help him if he ran into one of our enlisted pilots.

"What year did you graduate, Arch, "I made a command decision to irritate the short little bastard, as he reminded me of Sini's first husband.

"Commander, June of 1940."

"When did you graduate flight school, Arch, old man?"

"September of 1941."

That was exactly nine months too long, this had just got serious.

"You flunked twice?"

"Sir no sir, the instructor pilot died of a heart attack at takeoff and the other student was in the co-pilot's seat and the plane crashed. I was aft and broke my collar bone, wrist and ankle. When I was healthy I went through it in the right time, sir."

"Okay a couple of things, Arch. If I hear a whiff of that ring knocker shit again, whether it's to me or Lieutenant Kembel, who both outrank you, you'll be on a destroyer five minutes after we land. I'll fucking know if you're thinking it you short little shit. Do you God damned understand me Mr. Turner. And another thing, you fuck, if you ever denigrate any of our enlisted men, who know more about this plane, than I do, you're fucking done. If they fuck up, ask if there were extenuating circumstances. If there were not, give it to them straight. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"From now on you're Arch, it suits you. At some point in your life you were a human being. If you want to be an Admiral, Arch, you can't be an asshole. I met Chester Nimitz yesterday. He's brilliant, kind and tough as an old shoe. That's who you want to be and it's time for you to be a warrior. Mr. Turner."

"I have to use the head."

I unhooked my seatbelt and then the radio connection and realized the intercom was on the whole time. I stood up and went aft to use the head.

Nobody looked at me as I stepped down out of the cockpit, except the old Marine who was chuckling to himself.

"Something funny Sergeant?"

"Sir no disrespect meant, but you would have made a great DI at Paris Island."

"What are you doing on my plane Sergeant?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but you don't have the need to know on my orders, sir."

"Who the fuck are you?"

He stood up and said, "Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack Smith, Commander. By the way sir, I am a Sergeant Pilot and have two thousand hours in this plane."

"Carry one Sergeant, " he had to have been close to fifty years old, his face was weathered and his nose had been broken and there was a long scar just above his eye brows running horizontal to the brows. He was six foot three and maybe two sixty, give or take. He was probably a better pilot than me with more than fourteen hours more in this plane than I did.

"Aye Aye sir, "he responded.

Being inside a plane or a building or ship, meant you don't salute, Navy or Marines. I made it to the head and evacuated my bowels.

We landed at 1115 hours which was twenty five minutes to the good. The next leg was some twenty hours. I wanted leave at 0300 hours in the morning and there was a three quarter moon with plenty of light and the same thing tomorrow night.

We were idling at ramp and I clicked on the Intercom, "Pilot has the controls."

"Co-pilot to pilot, hands off."

"Acknowledged," the deck apes were putting the trolley gear, "Listen up, get a full load of ammunition for the guns, Genzer, Chief Morgan and you Pacheco, it is more than likely we encounter the enemy, I am timing this so ten of the twenty hours we'll fly in the dark, aided by the moon, but just in case, extra load of ammunition, we don't want to run out. We take off 0300 hours in the morning, estimated arrival Guam 2300 hours. Preflight 0215. Move about so you can evacuate your bowels, eat some fruit. Whatever you do, do not fuck any of the native women. If you do, then almost certainly you will meet the sailor's old friends, gonorrhea, syphilis and my personal favorite Non Specific Urinary Disease, otherwise known as the drip.

Plus you don't to bring home to your wife a new child. Understood?"

A chorus of "Aye Ayes came into my ears."

"Folks, eat as much fruit as you can, you don't want to feel constipated if somebody is trying kill us. Understood, this is not horse shit. It's mission critical. Drink as much coffee as you can stand, bug juice works too. Just so you it does have saltpeter in it, which will tamp down your feelings for some of the natives as well as your shipmates on some of these long lonely nights and you're feeling need of some release."

"There were quite a few chuckles."

"9-P-4, "Hold at ramp for instructions."

"Midway Island, acknowledged."

There were a dozen men in the water affixing the trolley with the landing gear to our fuselage.

"9-P-4 taxi to Hanger number 1."

"Midway Island, acknowledged."

Just a nudge on the throttles with both Arch and I (he anticipated me) and we were on the runway. I stopped using the brakes and feathering the prop and there plane captains chalking the wheels, I saw U. S. Navy car, a new 1941 Chrysler sedan with a flag with one star speeding from the small tower.

I got on the intercom, "Sergeant Simpson to the cockpit, immediately, "I unbuckled my harness and radio connection and got behind Arch.

"Sir, permission to come up."

"Granted. Sergeant, I need to meet with this Admiral forthwith, Please assist Ensign Turner in getting her tied down and refueled and ready for our early start. Mr. Turner, Sergeant Turner has twice as much time in the left seat on PBYs than I do. If he has suggestions, please do what he says and ask him why, afterwards. Is that clear?"

I heard two Aye Ayes.

There was a ladder out of the port blister already and I was out the blister and down the ladder. Reaching the ground, there was a rear admiral and a Captain standing there I saluted the Admiral and both returned the salute.

"My name is David Jones and this is Captain Caleb McGary. Please get in the car we have a lot to talk about.

I took my cunt cap off and put it in the pocket of my coveralls. The Captain handed me an oil-skin communication.

Attention to Commander Joseph Benedict Commanding Officer NAS Kaneohe Bay

'On or about 0730 hours December 9, 1941, Commodore Thomas Baumgardner was shot down approaching Wake Island by Enemy forces, there were no survivors. Stop.

Lieutenant Commander Benedict promoted to Commander as of December 9, 1941.

Entered Service June 10, 1936, Seattle, Washington. Stop.

You are to proceed with current mission with utmost speed. Stop

Nimitz

"He was my best friend, his wife and Sini are best friends."

"We can have you refueled and ready to go in an hour, "Admiral Jones said.

"With all due respect Admiral, We will take off at 0300 hours in the morning. It's a twenty hour leg and near as I figure I'll take off and land both in the in dark both at 2330 hours, ten hours of the twenty will be in the dark. There are almost certainly Japanese subs within five miles of here, no running lights. No use in telling the fuckers I'm coming and I do nobody any good if I get my ass shot down. Sir."

The Captain looked at me like he wanted to spit on me as if I was lower than whale shit and had disrespected the Admiral, he started knocking his ring on the table.

"Benedict, I like the idea. Can you have lunch with me in my mess?"

"Yes sir."

"Caleb take my car and go see if the Commander's crew have food and a place to rest."

The heat was oppressive, but we made it to the dining room and there were a half dozen Philippino stewards, dressed in modified dress whites petty officers all.

"Sir my dress, is inappropriate."

"Commander I flew the Hall PH3 up until a year ago, there were both Navy squadrons and Coasties too. Jones is an officious little shit, but he's a good admin officer and I'm where I'm supposed to be and all the reports are correct."

"Tell me about you Joe."

"Sir, I was born and raised on a farm in Napavine, Washington. It's a farming community in Lewis county half way between Portland, Oregon, and Olympia, Washington. My mom and I lived with my dad's grandparents. He and my uncle fought in France in the great War under Black Jack Pershing, my Uncle Bill was shot eight times, he had a thirty Caliber browning water cooled machine gun, we grew up hearing it was Alvin York that rescued him. My dad was shot up too, I'm told. I never knew him.

I played center for the University of Washington Huskies and was part of the US Naval Reserve Officer Training Corp. Went to Pensacola in June of 1936."

"Are you married?"

"Sini and I have four kids and she's due any day now. Jeri is our oldest, from her first marriage, then twin girls and Joe jr. I'm hoping for another son. But I love my girls.

The lunch was fresh caught mackerel which was grilled and they served it with some kind of orange squash and fresh peas. It was incredibly good. I had two helpings.

I declined a drink stuck with coffee. At 1300 I was driven in an ambulance to the hanger and plane was refueled and there were Marine guards posted around. I went inside the hanger and it was similar to what we had at NAS Sand Point. I went to the door labeled Maintenance Officer. I opened it and there was Chief Morgan and the squadron maintenance officer were talking.

I waited a second and cleared my throat.

Chief Morgan turned and said, 'Commander Benedict, the plane is ready we'll have coffee and sandwiches and the men are in the galley and there are some transient barracks."

"Good job Chief! I have some bad news, Commodore Baumgartner was shot down near Wake Island this morning and there were no survivors. He was my best friend and I know you were close."

"What does that mean for this mission sir, "he asked.

"Nothing same plans.

"Lieutenant I need some place to sleep and need to wake up at 0200 hours."

"Sir, next to the Ready Room, there are quarters for the officer of the day and there is a shower too. I can take you there when the chief and I are done."

The engines had about forty hours since the filters, plugs and oil had been changed, but Morgan was having them checked again, which is why he was so damn good.

It was dark as Arch and I completed the preflight.

"Midway 9-P-4 taxing to ramp, no running lights."

"9-P-4 acknowledged, proceed off the ramp and hold."

"Acknowledged Midway."

Once we were in the water the plane captains had the trollies off in a minute.

"J-P-4 tail winds of twenty knots at ten thousand feet."

"Acknowledged Midway."

On the intercom, "Sergeant Simpson to the cockpit."

We were idling in the water when he stuck his head up, "Sir."

I yelled, "We have tail winds at ten thousand feet, I thought this was going to take twenty hours. However, I can run on one engine at ninety five knots with the tail wind I'm at one hundred fifteen knots and my consumption goes way down."

Simpson said, "That's smart sir, one thing you might do is alternate the engines."

"Great idea Sergeant, you fly from 0700 hours until 1100 hours. Go below Sergeant."

We were airborne at 0305 hours December 10, 1941.

"Pilot to Co-pilot, ascend at four hundred feet per minute until you reach ten thousand feet."

"Aye Aye sir.

"Pilot to Co-pilot hands off."

"Co-pilot to Pilot, I have it sir."

"Sergeant Simpson to the cockpit."

I disconnected my harness and the com-controls and stepped behind Arch, again.

Simpson came into the cockpit and was in the left seat and hooked up and then fiddled with the throttles.

"Sergeant, "I yelled, "go to one engine once we are at ten thousand feet, switch them out once an hour okay."

He nodded yes.

"Sir, get some rest you're dragging."

I went aft in the fuselage and there were some mail bags that I set up as my bed. I dreamt of Sini, not erotic, it was Christmas morning and then I slept hard.

It was 1000 hours when I was shaken awake. Chief Morgan had a mug of coffee and two bologna sandwiches, which were altogether wonderful. I hit the head and all was right with my body.

"Guam, J-P-4, inbound via Midway expected arrival zero forty five hours."

"J-P-4, Guam. Turn your running lights off. At zero forty hours will light the ramp."

"Guam, J-P-4 acknowledges."

The lights came on and the water was lit and the landing was smooth. We approached the ramp where the plane captains were waiting with the trollied wheels.

"J-P-4 follow the blue lit follow me to open hanger doors and park outside."

On the intercom, I said, "Lieutenant Simpson, We will be outbound to Manilla at 0800 hours arrival 2030 hours. With or without you we will be outbound Manila 0530 hours. I will leave without you. Be prompt."

"Guam J-P-4 in water at ramp, trollies off."

"J-P-4, take off at will. Southeasterly winds five miles per hour."

"Pilot to Co-Pilot, two thousand feet Arch, no running lights, if you see clouds use them."

On the intercom, "Lieutenant Simpson thirty minutes."

"Manila Bay, J-P-4 inbound arrival 2030 hours, no running lights."

"J-P-4, rely on moonlight, follow me will direct you."

The landing was easy, the plane captains attached the trollies and we were on the runway following the truck.

"Sir, please pause, we're out right here."

Two minutes later, Chief Morgan poked into the cockpit and yelled at me, "Proceed to port the truck is up there."

"Why'd they get out?"

"Spies."

I shut off the engines. Chief Morgan, we need fuel and food, find out immediately, I will stay in the plane update me Chief. All crew wear your pistols. Lieutenant Kembel and Pacheco, carry BARs with ammo belts."

It was now 2100 hours. There was a bright moon, not quite a full moon and clouds blew across the face of the moon.

At 2200 hours Chief Morgan returned with a fuel truck, brandishing his weapon on the driver a third class petty officer, screaming at him to get out of cab and fuel the plane. Shortly, thereafter Mr. Kembel and Pacheco returned with two buckets of cooked rice.

Morgan took the keys out of the cab. When the refueling was done he told the petty officer to walk back. Turning to me he said, "The runway officer said we would not be permitted to take off, that MacArthur ordered that. I told him that we were travelling under orders of Chester Nimitz."

We ate cold rice in mugs, I put some syrup over it and had two mugs of it. There was plenty of it left.

At 0400 hours Lieutenant Simpson and Sergeant Simpson returned with six Marine officers from warrant officers to a Colonel. Sergeant Simpson was bleeding from a shoulder wound, but refused attention. They were all loaded aboard.

"Chief do you and Pacheco know how to get the trollies off?"

"Yes sir. We should go."

We kept the preflight to a minimum and were moving down the runway and nudged into the water. The port and starboard blisters were open and rope ladders were extended. Pacheco and Morgan were back into the plane inside of ten minutes.

"J-P-4 you do not have permission to take off, return to the runway."

"Manilla Bay, under orders Admiral Chester Nimitz. Out bound."

"Pilot to Co-Pilot Guam bound. I will return in thirty minutes fifteen hundred feet, no running lights."

I was back towards where the Marine Colonel was yelling at Sergeant Simpson.

"Shut up Colonel immediately. I am in command of this plane and that means everyone aboard. Chief Morgan, hand cuff him immediately. Do you fucking understand me Colonel, "I towered over him. He was an Academy guy maybe fifty years old.

"Answer my question right now."

"I understand Commander."

I looked to Sergeant Simpson and said, "They're all intelligence officers, correct?"

He had a slight smile emerge on his weathered face.

"Chief Morgan, hand cuff him, "he did.

"Sergeant Simpson can you fly?"

"Sir, it's a furrow atop my shoulder and I need to stop the bleeding, if I do that and get some coffee I'll be fine."

I said, "Mr. Kembel, can you bandage him immediately?"

"Aye Aye, sir!"

"There are some seabags aft, arrange them on and sit against them. We have some rice to eat. Colonel you are not with these men are you?"

He shook his head and said, "No, they're with the Fourth Marines."

Arriving in Guam, I had Chief Morgan escort the Commander to the Guam command. It was 1800 hours. We were outboard to Midway at 2330 hours, Ensign Turner was aft asleep. Sergeant Simpson was in the right seat. We each had coffee and a full thermos, bologna sandwiches and more rice and syrup. We had clouds at eight thousand feet and we rose to them and flew above them.

At 0330 Sergeant Simpson said, "Bandits two o'clock high."

They were both fighter plane flights of eight and four large four engine seaplanes.

All had running lights on.

"Pilot to crew, guns ready fore and aft. Sergeant Simpson six thousand feet feather port engine."

"Pilot to crew, Bandits at twelve thousand feet, we're going to hide."

We hid effectively and transited Midway and arrived NAS Kaneohe Bay December twenty first, 1245 hours.

"J-P-4 transit to tower, hold Cargo and you for trip to Headquarters Pear Harbor, Cargo to Commander Rochefort, Benedict to Admiral Nimitz, acknowledge."

"Tower acknowledge, J-P-4 Commander Benedict pilot in Command."

On the intercom, "Pilot to crew. Fourth Marines escorted by Lieutenant and Sergeant Simpson to Commander Rochefort Pearl Harbor Headquarters Intelligence weapons in hands, voice orders Admiral Nimitz. Mr. Turner, Mr. Kembel and Chief

Morgan get the plane taken care, crew fed, barracks sleep, clean uniforms."

I arrived at Admiral Nimitz's headquarters at 1320 hours. Admiral Jones was there and I said, "Commander Benedict reporting as ordered, sir."

"Sir, I have flown for six days, I have no idea where my seabag is. I left it in the Admiral's office. I have not slept in two days and ate some cold rice yesterday. I was ordered here to meet with the Admiral."

"Were there any difficulties?"

"Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack Simpson, was wounded in Manila. He also was a flying Sergeant and flew thirty percent of the hours, he should be awarded."

"Ship's company Manila Bay tried to commandeer the plane as per MacArthur's orders, we said we were under the Admiral's orders. We had to commandeer fuel and two buckets of rice."

I heard something behind me and it was the Admiral. "Sir."

"What would you say is there status?"

"Admiral they are out of fuel, food, planes and ammunition. They will fight."

He nodded and sighed, "Both of you come with me to the officer's mess."

The room was full. I was wearing my coveralls and my flight jacket and my cunt cap was in my pocket. I had not shaved in over a week.

"Attention on deck!"

"As you were. Gentleman. This is Commander Big Joe Benedict. He comes to us from NAS Sand Point, he just returned from flying in and out Manila Bay, his crew rescued the Fourth Marines Intelligence officers. Master Gunnery Sergeant Jack Simpson USMC one of our Flying Sergeants was wounded. They evaded attack and arrived forty five minutes ago, he had some rice during his return flight. He said the sailors and marines at Manila bay are down to it, but they will fight. Commander Benedict is worried he doesn't belong with us in the mess. Gentleman, do you think we might bend the rules?"

They erupted in applause. Join us Commander."

He turned to Admiral Jones and said, "The Sergeant purple heart, silver star distinguished flying cross, the Commander the same thing, no purple heart, the whole crew Distinguished Flying Cross, bronze star."

"Please sit with me Commander. They have great bean soup."

There was a steward and he was standing by me and I said, "Could I have a cup of the bean soup. Do you have toasted cheese sandwiches?"

"Yes sir."

"Could I have two of them and some sliced pickles and some milk?"

The admiral said, "The same for me."

The lunch was good.

"We'll find you some uniforms. Get some sleep and fly back to Alameda and up to Sand Point. You will have to participate in some ceremony, the President says we need heroes and you qualify. Then you will fly to Consolidated in San Diego, they have some new ones with wheels and they can take off from a runway and the water both. Pick one up and bring it here. You will have three squadrons in Espiritu Santu.

You will assist some military action the Marines will undertake soon.

I was able to call Sini's mom's house and her mom picked up. "Ingrid it's Joe, Can I speak with Sini?"

"Joe, she's over at Cheryl's parents home in Bremerton." I will be back on Friday, can I talk to the kids?"

"They're with her."

"What's going on?"

"Well they've moved out their with Cheryl's parents, it's a big farm and Sini felt it was safter. There's air raid sirens three times a day here."

"Tell me the truth mom."

"It started before you left, I'm sorry."

"I will start the paperwork, she's a good mom, I'll probably get killed anyway."

This hurt. But it is what it is. The ceremony was next week and I had two weeks leave in Seattle afterwards. I'd see mama and some friends from playing ball get the divorce going.

I made the three local paper's front page. The Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox was there made a speech and so was Sini, but not my kids.

She walked up to me and said, "Can we talk?"

There were some tables and we sat down and I stared at her without saying anything. Finally I stood up and turned and walked towards my car.

She caught up to me and said, "We need to talk."

I said, "I will sign the papers tomorrow and they will be at your mom's."

"What about the kids?" "I said, "You're a good mom."

She said, "I'm pregnant."

"Who's the father?"

"She looked away, "Tom."

I burst out laughing."

"Cheryl and I want you to be our husband."

"But if Tom had not died, "he would be your choice."

"And the girls and Joe are they his too?

She said, "Joe is yours."

I stood up and walked away.

End: December 8th, 1941, NAS Sand Point P.2

Coming soon: Guadalcanal