First Lieutenant Art Tuttle, our flight engineer, yelled into the intercom; “Doc, our number 4 engine is showing a drop in oil pressure and an increase in cylinder head temperature. Keep an eye on him, Art, and let me know if his numbers continue to drop,” Commanded Captain Doc Waller, our pilot.
As a co-pilot on the flight, he knew that B-29 engines and other errors had become problems for many other crews stationed outside of Piardoba, India. We were often overloaded with 140,000 lbs. to 160,000 lbs. gross weight, causing the engines to overheat.
Girlfriends, losses and pin ups
The rapidly forming cumulus clouds below caught my eye. But I realized that eighteen hours of flying the B-29, per mission, in the China Burma Theater gave us all a lot of time to think; wives and girlfriends the “Love Boat B-17 over Walker Field, my wife, Betty Ann, coaxing the big bomber through the skies over the Michigan/Ohio State football game, my time in the cavalry, and my new assignment as Adjutant General Smith The loss of Lt. Edward Pearce, a Flint Northern football star and 3-year-old Michigan State letter-winner, on a mountainside in French Morocco…then, 1st Lt. Charles Hill (MSU running back) who was flying a Liberator over Germany failed to come back a month later stabbed me like a knife.
Pearce, Hill, and I stayed together through 14 transfers to camps and bases, going from the Cavalry to the Military to the Air Force. We all received our wings together following the same path and I mourned them and their crews. Heartbroken, their widows with newborns carried on… and kept the faith that their loved ones would return.
The selection of the nose art was important to the unity of the crew… the spirit and pride of each crew. The more personal, intimate and irreverent, the better for 19-24 year olds in this war. Perhaps a pin-up on the side of a plane would make the enemy stop (with laughter or desire) in their quest to shoot down our plane, giving our gunners a chance to get him first. A playboy pinup or worse sure was exciting to most and a relief to some. Themes ranged from cheeky or sexual to cartoon/caricature, people, logo/name, and name-only themes. What the heck, the more garish, the better. If it eased some tension and we let it rip. It was a lot of fun and suddenly all the men became artists in each aircrew unit to get a representative coat of arms.
Star Duster’s Fight
Sergeant James Lynch, our right gunner, suddenly yelled into the intercom; “Doc, our number 4 is smoking.” Here we go again, I thought, as Captain Doc Waller, our pilot, told Jimmy to watch for the flames and 1st Lt. Art Tuttle, our flight engineer, to check gauges, check temperatures and pressures and his emergency checklist. .
Number 4’s timing couldn’t have been worse. We were 34,000 feet above the Himalayas. This is not a bombing mission but a cargo flight. We have eight rubber-lined fuel tanks secured to the bomb racks, 2,900 gallons to unload after 13 more hours of direct flight to our forward base in Cheng Tu Valley…in preparation for the push to bomb the homeland of Japan.
We were a long way from home with so much fuel on board. A potential engine fire was now scarier than being fired over Kyushu and Yokohama from intensely accurate anti-aircraft missiles.
I looked at Doc, quietly concentrating on his next task. He was going over his emergency procedures and options as he descended and changed course, in case the worst happened. He knew that twelve men were counting on his life and death decisions. Dock told me to take the yoke and I flew “STARDUSTER” on our new course. I kept an eye on the number 4 as he polled Art Tuttle for engine performance numbers and asked for constant updates from our engine eyes in the back.
Through the morning darkness, we press on. None of us expected that our missions would arrive without casualties or that our own aircraft would have a better chance than others of emerging unharmed. The question we all ponder… What if? And it seemed that the answer to what if could become a reality…soon.
The number 4 engine was slowly losing power and now we could smell gas fumes from the nose of the plane. With a sudden and dramatic turn to the right, TSgt Alden Huisjen, our senior gunner, yelled, “We’ve got thick black smoke coming out of No. 4 now.” Quickly, I turned to confirm our troublesome child on the starboard wing. Doc gave me that look and I nodded a confirmation of the reality of our problem. Our converted B-29 tanker was now in real trouble.
Doc immediately reduced power upon hearing smoke coming from the engine, even as Art reported that all engine instruments were showing normal indications. The reduction in power had reduced the volume of smoke, but within 10 minutes, a large plume of oil and smoke suddenly erupted from the upper nacelle. Sergeant Don Carter, our radio operator, went to the forward bomb bay to investigate the gas fumes. Doc was concerned that the vapors would saturate the plane and the entire crew could be affected.
“Fire, fire is coming out of number 4 now,” Alden yelled, “the flames are growing.”
Suddenly there was a second shudder and Art looked at the tach and notified the pilots that the MAP/RPM on the number 4 was dropping rapidly. The engine then jerked violently and came to a complete stop…