My name is  Edgar McElroy. My friends call me
 "Mac". I was born and raised in Ennis, Texas the youngest of five
 children, son of Harry and  Jennie McElroy.  Folks say that I was the
 quiet one. We lived at 609 North Dallas Street and attended the 
Presbyterian Church.


                My dad had an auto mechanic's shop downtown close to 
the main fire station. My family was a hard-working  bunch, and I was
 expected to work at dad's garage after school and on Saturdays, so I
 grew  up in an  atmosphere of  machinery, oil and  grease.
  Occasionally I would hear a lone plane   fly over, and would run out 
in the street and  strain my eyes  against the sun to watch it.
  Someday, that would be me up there!



               I really like  cars and I was always busy on some
 project.  It wasn't long before I  decided to build  my  very own
 Model-T out of spare parts. I   got an engine from over here, a frame 
from over  there, and  wheels from someplace else, using  only the
 good parts from old cars that were  otherwise shot. It wasn't very 
pretty but it  was all  mine. I enjoyed driving on the dirt  roads
 around town and the feeling of freedom and  speed. That car of mine
 could really go fast, 40 miles per hour!

  

             In high school I played football and tennis and was
 good enough at football to receive an athletic scholarship from
Trinity University in Waxahachie.  I have to admit that sometimes I 
daydreamed in class and, often times, I thought about flying my very
 own airplane and being up there in the clouds. That is when I even 
decided to take a correspondence course in aircraft engines.


                Whenever I got  the chance, I would take my girl on a 
date up to  Love Field in Dallas . We  would watch the airplanes and 
listen to those mighty piston engines roar. I just loved it and if she
 didn't, well that was just too bad.



               After my schooling, I operated a filling station with
 my brother, then drove a bus, and later had a job as a machinist in 
Longview but I never lost my love of airplanes and my dream of flying.  
With what was going on in Europe and in Asia, I figured that our
 country would be drawn into  war  someday so I decided to join the 
Army Air Corps in November of 1940. This way I could finally follow my
dream.

  

             I reported for primary training in California . The
 training was rigorous and frustrating at times. We trained at
 airfields all over California. It was tough going and many of the
 guys washed out.  When I finally saw that I was going to make it, I
 wrote to my girl back in Longview , Texas. Her name is Agnes Gill.  I 
asked her to come out to California for my graduation. And ,oh yeah,
 also to marry me.

  

             I graduated on July 11, 1941. I was now a real,
 honest-to-goodness Army Air Corps pilot.  Two days later, I married 
"Aggie" in Reno, Nevada .  We were starting a new life together and
 were  very happy. I received my orders to report to Pendleton, Oregon 
and join the 17th Bomb Group.   Neither of us had traveled much 
before, and the drive north through the Cascade Range of the  Sierra
Nevada was interesting and beautiful.

 

              It was an exciting time for us. My unit was the first 
to receive the new B-25 medium bomber. When I saw it for the first
 time I was in awe.  It looked so huge.  It was so sleek and powerful.
  The guys started calling it the "rocket plane" and I could  hardly 
wait to get my hands on it.  I told Aggie that it was really something!
  Reminded me of a big old scorpion just ready to sting!   Man, I could 
barely wait!

  

             We were transferred to another airfield in Washington
 State where we spent a lot a time  flying practice missions and
 attacking imaginary targets. Then, there were other assignments in 
Mississippi and Georgia for more maneuvers and more practice.


                We were on our way back to California on December 7th
 when we got word of a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor . We listened 
with mixed emotions to the announcements on the radio and the next day
 to the declaration of  war. What the president said just rang over and
 over in my head, "With confidence in our armed forces, with the 
unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable 
triumph, so help us God."  By gosh, I felt as though he was talking 
straight to me! I  didn't  know what would happen to us, but we all
 knew that we would be going somewhere now.



                The first weeks of the war, we were back in Oregon
 flying patrols at sea looking for possible Japanese submarines.  We 
had to be up at 0330 hours to warm up the engines of our planes. There 
was 18 inches of  snow on the ground and it was so cold that our
 engine oil congealed overnight. We placed big tarps over the engines
 that reached down to the ground. Inside this tent we used plumbers
 blow torches to thaw out the engines. I figured that my dad would be
 proud of me if he could see me inside this tent with all this 
machinery, oil, and grease.  After about an hour of this, the engines
 were warm enough to start.

                We flew patrols over the coasts of Oregon and
 Washington from  dawn until dusk. Once, I  thought I spotted a sub and
 started my bomb run, even had my bomb  doors  open, but I pulled out
 of it when I realized that it was just a big whale.

    Lucky for me, I would have never heard the end of that!
  

             Actually, it was lucky for us that the Japanese didn't 
attack the West Coast because  we just didn't have a strong enough 
force to beat them off. Our country was in a real fix now and,
 overall, things looked pretty bleak to most folks. In early February, 
we were ordered to report to Columbus, South Carolina.  Man, this Air
Corps sure moves a fellow around a lot! Little did I know what was
coming next!

 

              After we got settled in Columbus, my squadron
commander called us all together. He told us  that an awfully 
hazardous mission was being planned and then he asked for volunteers.
  There were some of the guys who did not step forward but I was one of
 the ones who did. My co-pilot was  shocked.  He said "You can't
volunteer, Mac!  You're married and you and Aggie are expecting  a 
baby soon. Don't do it!" I told him that, "I  got into the Air Force 
to do what I can, and  Aggie  understands how I feel. The war won't be
 easy for any of us."

  

             We who volunteered were transferred to Eglin Field
 near Valparaiso, Florida in late  February. When we all got together,
there were about 140 of us volunteers. We were told that we were now
 part of the "Special B-25 Project".

     We set about our training but none of us knew what it
 was all about. We were ordered not to talk about it, not even to our
wives.
    In early March, we were all called in for a briefing
 and gathered together in a big building there on the base.  Somebody
 said that the fellow who's the head of this thing is coming to talk to 
us and in walks Lieutenant Colonel Jimmy Doolittle. He was already an 
aviation legend and there he stood right in front of us. I was truly 
amazed just to meet him.


                Colonel Doolittle explained that this mission would be 
extremely dangerous and that only volunteers could take part. He said
 that he could not tell us where we were going but he could say that
 some of us would not be coming back.

   There was a silent pause; you could have heard a pin
drop. Then Doolittle said that  anyone of us could withdraw now, and
 that no one would criticize us for this decision. No one backed out!  
From the outset, all volunteers worked from the early morning hours 
until well after sunset. All excess weight was stripped from the 
planes and extra gas tanks were added. The lower gun turret was 
removed, the heavy liaison radio was removed, and then the tail guns
 were taken out and more gas tanks were put aboard. We extended the
 range of that plane from 1000 miles out to 2500 miles.

  

             Then I was assigned my crew. There was Richard 
Knobloch the co-pilot, Clayton Campbell the  navigator, Robert 
Bourgeous the bombardier, Adam Williams the flight engineer and 
gunner, and me, Mac McElroy the pilot. Over the coming days, I came to
 respect them a lot. They were a swell bunch of guys, just regular
All-American boys.

    

           We got a few ideas from the training as to what type
 of mission that we had signed on for. A Navy pilot had joined our
 group to coach us at short takeoffs and also in shipboard etiquette.
  We began our short takeoff practice. Taking off with first a light
load, then a normal load, and finally overloaded up to 31,000 lbs. The
 shortest possible take-off was obtained with flaps full down, 
stabilizer set three-fourths,  tail heavy, full power against the
 brakes and releasing the brakes simultaneously as  the  engines revved
 up to max power. We pulled back gradually on the stick and the 
airplane left the ground with the tail skid about one foot from the 
runway. It was a very unnatural  and scary way to get airborne!  I 
could hardly believe it myself, the first time as I took off with a 
full gas load and dummy bombs in just 700 feet of runway in a near 
stall condition. We were, for all practical purposes, a slow-flying
 gasoline bomb!

 

              In addition to take-off practice, we refined our
 skills in day and night navigation, gunnery, bombing, and low level
 flying. We made cross country flights at  tree-top level, night 
flights and navigational flights over the Gulf of Mexico without the 
use of a radio.  After we started that short-field takeoff routine, we 
had some pretty fancy competition between the crews. I think that one
 crew got it down to about 300 feet on a hot day.  We were told that
 only the best crews would  actually go on the mission and the rest
 would be held in reserve. One crew did stall on takeoff, slipped back 
to the ground, busting up the landing gear. They were eliminated from 
the mission. Doolittle emphasized again and again the extreme danger
 of this operation and made it clear that anyone who so desired could
 drop out with no questions asked.  No one did.


                On one of our cross country flights, we landed at 
Barksdale Field in Shreveport and I was able to catch a bus over to 
Longview to see Aggie. We had a few hours together and then we had to 
say our goodbyes. I told her I hoped to be back in time for the baby's
 birth but I couldn't tell her where I was going.  As I walked away, I 
turned and walked backwards for a ways taking one last look at my
 beautiful, pregnant Aggie.

  

             Within a few days of  returning to our base in 
Florida, we were abruptly told to pack our  things. After just three 
weeks of practice, we were on our  way.  This was it. It was time to
 go. It was the middle of March 1942 and I was 30 years old. Our
 orders were to fly to McClellan Air Base in Sacramento, California on
 our own, at the lowest possible level. So here we went on our way 
west, scraping the tree  tops at 160  miles per hour and skimming 
along just 50 feet above plowed fields. We crossed north Texas and
 then the panhandle, scaring the dickens out of livestock, buzzing farm
houses and a many a barn along the way. Over the Rocky Mountains and
 across the Mojave Desert dodging thunderstorms,  we enjoyed the flight
 immensely and, although tempted, I didn't do too much dare-devil 
stuff.  We didn't know it at the time but it was good practice for
 what lay ahead of us. It proved to be our last fling. Once we arrived 
in Sacramento, the mechanics went over our plane with a fine-toothed
 comb. Of the twenty-two planes that made it, only those whose pilots 
reported no mechanical problems were allowed to go on. The others were 
shunted aside.



                After having our plane serviced, we flew on to Alameda 
Naval Air Station in Oakland.  As I came in for final approach, we saw 
it!  I excitedly called the rest of the crew to take a look. There 
below us was a huge aircraft carrier. It was the USS Hornet, and it
 looked so gigantic! Man, I had never even  seen a carrier until this
 moment.  There were already two B-25s parked on the flight deck. Now
 we knew! My heart was racing and I thought about how puny my plane
 would look on board this mighty ship. As soon as we landed and taxied 
off the runway, a jeep pulled in front of me with a  big "Follow Me"
 sign on the back. We followed it straight up to the wharf alongside
 the towering Hornet. All five of us were looking up and just in awe,
 scarcely believing the size of this  thing. As we left the plane,
 there was already a Navy work crew swarming around attaching cables 
to the lifting rings on top of the wings and the fuselage. As we
 walked toward our quarters, I  looked back and saw them lifting my
 plane up into the air and swing it over the ship's deck.  It  looked
 so small and lonely.


                Later that  afternoon, all crews met with Colonel
 Doolittle and he gave last minute  assignments. He told me to go to 
the Presidio and pick up two hundred extra "C" rations. I saluted,
 turned, and left, not having any idea where the Presidio was and not 
exactly sure what a "C" ration  was. I commandeered a Navy staff car
 and told the  driver to take me to the Presidio and he did.  On the
 way over, I realized that I had no written signed orders and that this
 might get a little sticky.  So, in I walked into the Army supply depot
 and made my request, trying to look poised and confident. The supply
 officer asked,  "What is your authorization for this request, sir?"  I
 told him that I could not give him one.  "And what is the 
destination?" he asked.  I answered, "The aircraft carrier, Hornet,
 docked  at  Alameda." He said, "Can you tell me who ordered the 
rations, sir?"  And I replied with a smile, "No, I cannot." The supply
 officers huddled together, talking and glanced back over toward me.
Then he walked back over and assured me that the rations would be
 delivered that afternoon Guess they figured that something big  was
 up. They were right. The next morning, we all boarded the ship.



               Trying to remember my naval etiquette, I saluted the 
Officer of the Deck and said, "Lt.  McElroy, requesting permission to
 come aboard." The officer returned the salute and said, "Permission
 granted." Then I turned aft and saluted the flag. I made it, without 
messing up. It was April 2, and, in full  sunlight, we left San
 Francisco Bay . The whole task force of ships, two cruisers, four
 destroyers, and a fleet oiler moved slowly with us under the Golden 
Gate Bridge . Thousands of people looked on. Many stopped their cars 
on the bridge and waved to us as we passed underneath.  I thought to 
myself, I hope there aren't any spies up there waving.


                Once at sea, Doolittle called us together. "Only a few
 of you know our destination and you  others have  guessed about 
various targets. Gentlemen, your target is Japan!"  A sudden cheer 
exploded among the men. "Specifically, Yokohama, Tokyo, Nagoya, Kobe,
 Nagasaki, and Osaka .  The Navy task force will get us as close as 
possible and we'll launch our planes. We will hit our targets and
 proceed to airfields in China."

After the cheering stopped, he asked 
again if any of us  desired to back out, no questions asked. Not one
 did, not one.  Then the ship's captain went over the intercom to the
 whole ship's company.  The loudspeaker blared, "The destination is
 Tokyo!"  A tremendous cheer broke out from everyone on board. I could
 hear metal banging together and wild screams from down below decks.
  It was quite a rush! I felt relieved actually.  We finally knew where
 we were going.

   

            I set up quarters with two Navy pilots putting my cot
 between their two bunks.  They couldn't get out of bed without 
stepping on me. It was just fairly cozy in there, yes it was. Those
 guys were part of  the Torpedo Squadron Eight and were just swell
 fellows. The rest of the guys bedded down in similar fashion to me.
  Some had to sleep on bedrolls in the Admiral's chart room. As big as
 this ship was, there wasn't any extra room anywhere. Every square foot
 had a  purpose.  A  few days later, we discovered where they had an ice
 cream machine!


                There were sixteen B-25s tied down on the flight deck
 and I was flying number 13. All  the carrier's fighter planes were
 stored away helplessly in the hangar deck. They couldn't move until we
 were gone. Our Army mechanics were all on board as well as our 
munitions loaders and several   back up crews in case any of us got
 sick or backed out.  We settled into a daily routine of checking our
 planes. The aircraft were grouped so closely together on deck that it
 wouldn't take much for them to get damaged.  Knowing that my life
 depended on this plane, I kept a close eye on her.


                Day after day, we met with the intelligence officer 
and studied our mission plan. Our  targets were assigned, and maps and
 objective folders were furnished for study. We went over approach 
routes and our escape route towards China . I never studied this hard
 back at Trinity.  Every day at dawn and at dusk, the ship was called to 
general quarters  and we practiced finding the  quickest way to our
 planes. If at any  point  along the way, we were discovered by the
 enemy  fleet, we  were to launch our bombers immediately  so the 
Hornet could bring up  its fighter planes.  We would then be on our
 own, and try to make it  to the nearest land, either Hawaii or Midway
Island.

                Dr. Thomas White, a volunteer member of plane number 15, went over our medical records and gave us inoculations for a whole bunch of diseases that hopefully I wouldn't catch. He gave us training sessions in emergency first aid and lectured us at length about water purification  and such. Tom, a medical doctor, had learned how to be a gunner just so he could go on this  mission.  We put some new tail guns in place of  the ones that had been taken out to save weight. Not exactly functional, they were two  broom handles painted black. The thinking was they might help scare any Jap fighter planes.  Maybe, maybe not.

                On Sunday, April 14, we met up with Admiral Bull Halsey's task force just out of Hawaii and  joined into one big force. The carrier Enterprise was now with us, another two heavy cruisers, four more destroyers, and another oiler. We were designated as Task Force 16. It was quite an impressive sight to see, and represented the bulk of what was left of the U.S. Navy after the devastation of Pearl  Harbor. There were over 10,000 Navy personnel sailing into harm's way, just to deliver us sixteen Army planes to the Japs, orders of the president.

                As we steamed further west, tension was rising as we drew nearer and nearer to Japan .  Someone thought of arming us with some old .45 pistols that they had on board. I went through that box of 1911 pistols - they were in such bad condition that I took several of them apart, using the  good parts from several useless guns until I built a serviceable weapon. Several of the other pilots  did the same.  Admiring my "new"  pistol, I held it up, and thought about my old Model-T.

                Colonel Doolittle called us together on the flight deck. We all gathered round, as well as many Navy personnel.  He pulled out some medals and told us how these friendship medals from the Japanese government had been given to some of our Navy officers several years back.  And now, the Secretary of the Navy had requested us to return them.  Doolittle wired them to a bomb while we all posed for pictures. Something to cheer up the folks back home!

                I began to pack my things for the flight scheduled for the 19th. I packed some extra clothes and a little brown bag that Aggie had given me. Inside were some toilet items and a few candy bars. No letters or identity cards were allowed, only our dog tags.  I went down to  the wardroom to have some ice cream and settle up my mess bill. It only amounted to $5 a day and, with my per diem of $6 per day, I came out a little ahead. By now, my Navy pilot roommates were about  ready to get rid of me but I enjoyed my time with them.

They were all right. Later on, I learned that both of them were killed at the Battle of Midway. They were good men. Yes, very good men.

                Colonel Doolittle let each crew pick its own target.  We chose the Yokosuka Naval Base about twenty miles from Tokyo. We loaded 1450 rounds of ammo and four 500-pound bombs.  A little payback, direct from  Ellis County, Texas! We checked and re-checked our plane several times. Everything was now ready. I felt relaxed yet tensed up at the same time. Day after tomorrow, we will launch when we are 400 miles out. I lay in my cot that night and rehearsed the mission over and over in my head. It was hard to sleep as I listened to sounds of the ship.

                Early the next morning, I was enjoying a leisurely breakfast, expecting another full day on board, and I noticed that the ship was pitching and rolling quite a bit this morning more than normal. I  was reading through the April 18th day plan of the Hornet, there was a message in it which said, "From the Hornet to the Army - Good luck,  good hunting, and God bless you."  I still had a large lump in my  throat from reading this when, all of a sudden, the intercom blared, "General  Quarters, General Quarters, All hands man your battle stations!  Army pilots, man your planes!" There was instant reaction from everyone in the room and food trays went crashing to the floor. I ran down to my room jumping through the hatches along the way, grabbed my bag, and ran as fast as I could go to the flight deck. I met with my crew at the plane, my heart was pounding.   Someone said, "What's going on?" The word was that the Enterprise had spotted an enemy trawler. It had  been sunk, but it had transmitted radio messages. We had been found out!

                The weather was crummy, the seas were running heavy, and the ship was pitching up and down like I had never seen before.  Great waves were crashing against the bow and washing over the front of the deck. This wasn't going to be easy! Last minute instructions were given. We were reminded to avoid non-military targets, especially the Emperor's Palace.  Do not fly to Russia, but fly as far west as possible, land on the water and launch our rubber rafts. This was going to be a one-way trip! We were still much too far out and we all knew that our chances of making land were  somewhere between slim and none.  Then at the last minute, each plane loaded an extra ten 5-gallon gas cans to give us a fighting chance of reaching China.

We all climbed aboard, started our engines and warmed them up, just feet away from the plane in front of us and the plane behind us. Knobby, Campbell, Bourgeois, and me in the front, Williams, the gunner was in the back separated from us by a big rubber gas tank. I called back to Williams on the intercom and told him to look sharp and don't take a nap! He answered dryly, "Don't  worry about me, Lieutenant. If they jump us, I'll just use my little black broomsticks to keep the Japs off our tail."

The ship headed into the wind and picked up speed. There was now a near gale force wind and water spray coming straight over the deck. I looked down at my instruments as my engines revved up. My mind was racing. I went over my mental checklist and said a prayer.  God please, help us!

Past  the twelve planes in front of us, I strained to see the flight deck officer as he leaned into the wind and signaled with his arms for Colonel Doolittle to come to full power. I looked over at Knobby and we looked each other in the eye. He just nodded to me and we both understood.

                With the deck heaving up and down, the deck officer had to time this just right. Then I saw  him wave Doolittle to go, and we watched breathlessly to see what happened. When his plane pulled up above the deck, Knobby just let out with, "Yes! Yes!"

The second plane, piloted by Lt. Hoover, appeared to stall with its nose up and began falling toward the waves. We groaned and called out, "Up! Up! Pull it up!" 

Finally, he pulled out of it, staggering back up into the air, much to our relief!  One by one, the planes in front of us took off. The deck pitched wildly 60 feet or more, it looked like. One plane seemed to drop down into the drink and disappeared for a moment, then pulled back up  into sight. There was sense of relief with each one that made it.

We gunned our engines and  started to roll forward. Off to the right, I saw the men on deck cheering and waving their covers! We continued inching forward, careful to keep my left main wheel and my nose wheel on the white guidelines that had been painted on the deck for us. Get off a little bit too far left and we go off the edge of the deck. A little too far to the right and our wing-tip will smack the island of the ship. With the best seat on the ship, we watched Lt. Bower take off in plane number 12, and I  taxied up to the starting line, put on my  the brakes, and looked down to my left.

My main wheel was right on the line. I applied more power to the engines, and then turned my complete attention to the deck officer on my left, who was circling his paddles. Now my adrenaline was really pumping! We went to full power, and the noise and vibration inside the plane went  way up. He circled the paddles furiously while watching forward for the pitch of the deck. Then he dropped them and I said, "Here We Go!" I  released the brakes and we started rolling forward and, as I looked down the flight deck, you could see straight down into the angry churning water. As we slowly gained speed, the  deck gradually began to pitch back up. I pulled up and our plane slowly strained up and away from the ship. There was a big cheer and whoops from the crew but I just felt relieved and muttered to myself,  "Boy, that was short!"

                We made a wide circle above our fleet to check our compass headings and get our bearings. I looked down as  we passed low over one of our cruisers and could   see the men on deck waving to us.  I dropped down to low level, so low we could see the whitecap waves breaking. It was just after 0900, there were broken clouds at 5,000 feet and visibility of about thirty miles due to haze or something. Up ahead and barely in sight, I could see Captain Greening, our flight leader, and Bower on his right wing. Flying at 170 mph, I was able  to catch up to them in about 30 minutes. We were to stay in this formation until reaching landfall and then break on our separate ways. Now we  settled in for the five hour flight. Tokyo, here we come!

                Williams was in the back emptying the extra gas cans into the gas tank as fast as we had burned off enough fuel. He then punched holes in the tins and pushed them out the hatch against the wind. Some of the fellows ate sandwiches and other goodies that the Navy had put aboard for us. I wasn't hungry. I held onto the controls with a firm  grip as we raced along westward just fifty feet  above the cold rolling ocean, as low as I dared to fly. Being so close to the choppy waves gave you a true sense of speed. Occasionally our windshield was sprayed with a little saltwater. It was an exhilarating feeling, and I felt as though the will and spirit of our whole country was pushing us along. I didn't feel too scared, just anxious. There was a lot riding on this thing, and on me.

                As we began to near land, we saw an occasional ship here and there. None of them close  enough to be threatening but, just the same, we were feeling more edgy. Then at 1330, we sighted land, the eastern shore of Honshu. With Williams now on his guns in the top turret and Campbell  on the nose gun, we came ashore still flying low as possible and were surprised to see people on  the ground waving to us as we flew in over the farmland. It was beautiful countryside.

                Campbell, our navigator, said, "Mac, I think we're going to be about sixty miles too far north. I'm not positive, but pretty sure" I decided that he was absolutely right and turned left ninety  degrees, went back just offshore and followed the coast line south. When I thought we had gone far enough, I climbed up to two thousand feet to find out where we were. We started getting fire from anti-aircraft guns. Then we spotted Tokyo Bay, turned west and put our nose down diving  toward the water. Once over the bay, I could see our target, Yokosuka Naval Base. Off to the right, there was already smoke visible over Tokyo. Coming in low over the water, I increased speed to 200 mph and told everyone, "Get ready!"

                When we were close enough, I pulled up to 1300 feet and opened the bomb doors.  There were furious black bursts of anti-aircraft fire all around us but I flew straight on through them spotting our target, the  torpedo works and the dry-docks. I saw a big ship in the dry-dock just as we flew over it. Those flak bursts were really getting close and bouncing us around when I heard Bourgeois shouting, "Bombs Away!" I couldn't see it, but Williams had a bird's eye view from the back and  he shouted jubilantly, "We got an aircraft carrier! The whole deck is burning!" I started  turning to the south and strained my neck to look back and at that  moment saw a large crane blow up and start falling over!.   Take that! There was loud
yelling and clapping each other on the back. We were all just ecstatic and still alive!  But there wasn't much time to celebrate. We had to get out of here and  fast! When we were some thirty miles out to sea, we took one last look back at our target and could still see huge billows of black smoke. Until now, we had been flying for Uncle Sam, but now we were flying for ourselves.

                We flew south over open ocean, parallel to the Japanese coast all afternoon. We saw a large submarine apparently at rest and then, in another fifteen  miles, we spotted three large enemy cruisers headed for Japan.  There were no more bombs, so we just let them be and kept on going. By late afternoon, Campbell calculated that it was time to turn and make for China . Across the East China Sea , the  weather out ahead of us looked bad and overcast.  Until now, we had not had time  to think much about our gasoline supply, but the math did not look good. We just didn't have enough fuel to make it!

                Each man took  turns cranking the little hand radio to see if we could pick up the promised radio beacon.  There was no signal. This is not good. The weather turned bad and it was getting dark, so we climbed up. I was now flying on instruments through a dark misty rain. Just when reaching land looked really hopeless, we suddenly picked up a strong  tailwind. It was an answer to  a prayer. Maybe, just maybe, we can make it!

                In total darkness at  2100 hours, we figured that we must be crossing the coastline, so I  began a long slow climb to be sure of not hitting any high ground or anything. I conserved as much fuel as I could, getting really low on gas now. The guys were still cranking on the radio but, after five hours of hand cranking with aching hands and backs, there was utter silence. No radio beacon!

Then the red light started blinking indicating twenty minutes of fuel left. We started getting ready to bail out. I turned the controls over to Knobby and crawled to the back of the plane, past the now collapsed rubber gas tank. I dumped everything out of my  bag and repacked just what I really needed, my .45 pistol, ammunition, flashlight, compass, medical kit, fishing tackle, chocolate bars,  peanut butter, and crackers. I told Williams to come forward with me so we could all be together for this There was no other choice. I had to  get us as far west as possible, and then we had to jump.

                At 2230, we were up to sixty-five hundred feet. We were over land but still above the  Japanese Army in China . We couldn't see the stars, so Campbell couldn't get a good fix on our position. We were flying on fumes now and I didn't want to run out of gas before we were ready to  go. Each man filled his canteen, put on his Mae West life jacket and parachute, and filled his bag with rations, those "C" rations from the Presidio. I put her on auto-pilot and we all gathered in the   navigator's compartment around the hatch in the floor. We checked each other's parachute harness. Everyone was scared without a doubt.  None of us had ever done this before!

I said, "Williams first, Bourgeois second, Campbell third, Knobloch fourth, and I'll follow you guys! Go fast, two seconds apart! Then count three seconds off and pull your ripcord!"

                We kicked open the hatch and gathered around the hole looking down into the blackness. It did not look very inviting! Then I looked up at Williams and gave the order, "JUMP!" Within seconds they were all gone.  I turned and reached back for the auto-pilot but could not reach it so I pulled the throttles back, then turned and jumped.  Counting quickly, thousand one, thousand two,  thousand three, I pulled my ripcord and jerked back up with a terrific shock. At first I thought that I was hung on the plane, but after a few agonizing seconds that seemed like hours, realized that I was free and drifting down. 

Being in the total darkness, I was disoriented at first but figured my feet must be pointed toward the ground. I looked down through the black mist to see what was coming up. I was in a thick mist or fog and the silence was so eerie after nearly thirteen hours inside that noisy plane. I could only hear the whoosh, whoosh
sound of the wind blowing through my shroud lines, and then I heard a loud crash and explosion. My plane!

                Looking for my flashlight, I groped through my bag with my right hand, finally pulled it out and shined it down toward the ground, which I still could not  see. Finally I picked up a glimmer of water and thought I was landing in a lake. We're too far inland for this to be ocean. I hope! I relaxed  my legs a little,
thinking I was about to splash into water and would have to swim out, and then  bang.  I jolted suddenly and crashed over onto my side.

Lying there in just a few inches of water,  I raised my head and put my hands down into thick mud. It was a rice paddy! There was a burning pain as if someone had stuck a knife in my stomach. I must have torn a muscle or broken something.

                I lay there dazed for a few minutes and, after a while, struggled to my feet. I dug a hole and buried my parachute in the mud. Then started trying to walk, holding my stomach, but every direction I moved the water got deeper.  Then, I saw some lights off in the distance. I  fished around  for my flashlight and signaled one time. Sensing something wrong, I got out my compass and to my  horror saw that those lights were off to my west. That must be a Jap patrol! How dumb could I be! Knobby had to be back to my east, so I sat still and quiet and did not move.

                It was a cold dark lonely night. At 0100 hours I saw a single light off to the east. I flashed my light in that direction one time. It had to be Knobby! I waited a while, and then called out softly,  "Knobby?"  and a voice replied "Mac, is that you?" Thank goodness, what a relief!   Separated by a wide stream, we sat on opposite banks of the water communicating in low voices.  After daybreak,  Knobby found a small rowboat and came across to get me. We started walking east toward the rest of the crew and away from that Japanese patrol. Knobby had cut his hip when he went through the hatch, but it wasn't too awfully bad.

                We walked together toward a small village and several Chinese came out to meet us  They seemed friendly enough. I said, "Luchu hoo megwa fugi! Luchu hoo megwa fugi!" meaning, "I am an American! I am an American!" Later that morning, we found the others. Williams had wrenched his knee when he  landed in a tree, but he was limping along just fine. There were hugs all around. I have never been so happy to see four guys in all my life!

                Well, the five of us eventually made it out of China with the help of the local Chinese  people and the Catholic missions along the way. They were all very good to us.  We found out afterward that they were made to pay terribly for it. For a couple of weeks, we traveled across  country. Strafed a couple of times by enemy planes, we kept on moving, by foot, by pony, by car, by train, and by airplane. But, we finally made it to India .

                I did not make it home for the baby's birth. I stayed over there flying a DC-3 "Gooney Bird" in the China-Burma-India Theatre for the next several months.  I flew supplies over the Himalaya Mountains or, as  we called it, over "The Hump"  into China . When B-25s finally arrived in India, I flew combat missions over Burma and then, later in the war, flew a B-29 out of the Marianna Islands to bomb Japan again and again.

                After the war, I remained in the Air Force until 1962 when I retired from the  service as a Lt. Colonel, and then came back to Texas, my beautiful Texas.  First moving to Abilene and we then settled in Lubbock, where Aggie taught school at MacKenzie Junior High. I worked at the S & R Auto Supply once again in an atmosphere of machinery, oil, and grease.

                I lived a good life and raised two wonderful sons whom I am very proud of.  I feel blessed in many ways. We have a great country, better than most folks know. It is worth fighting for. Some people call me a hero, but I have never thought of myself that way, no. But I did serve in the company of heroes. What we did, will never leave me. It will always be there in my fondest  memories I will always think of the fine and brave men whom I was privileged to serve with. With the loss of all aircraft, Doolittle believed that the raid had been a failure, and that he would be court-martialed upon returning to the states. Quite to the contrary, the raid proved to be a tremendous  boost to American morale which had plunged following the Pearl Harbor attack. It also caused serious doubts in the minds of Japanese war planners. They, in turn, recalled many seasoned  fighter plane units back to defend the home islands which resulted in Japan's weakened air capabilities at the upcoming Battle of Midway and other South Pacific campaigns.

  Edgar  "Mac" McElroy,  Lt. Col., U.S.AF.  (Ret.)