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Show 'We Fight Our Country's Bailies,' Sing Marines; Combat Correspondents Tell How They Do It Leatherneck Scribe Dodges Ack-Ack, Mans Waist -Gun (The follmving story teas written by Technical Sergt. Harry Bolser, Louisville, Louis-ville, Ky., a marine corps combat correspondent.) cor-respondent.) I admit now that I wiped beads of perspiration from my brow a few seconds after I was told that 1 would fly that night In a United States Army Liberator bomber on a mission mis-sion deep into Japanese territory. A trifle nervous, I quit my typewriter type-writer and gathered up my flight gear. Two hours before the designated desig-nated take-off time I was walking restlessly from one wall map to another an-other in the operations hut of the squadron on Guadalcanal to which I had been assigned. It was near midnight when a corporal cor-poral called across the room: "Lieutenant, "Lieu-tenant, here's the marine sergeant who's going with you." The slender army officer, slightly grayed at the temples, crossed the room and extended his hand. "I'm Jerry," he said in an informal, infor-mal, matter-of-fact manner. "Glad to have you with us. You'll work the starboard waist gun." I I gulped once and felt a lump form In my throat. My fingers squeezed Lieutenant Crume explained to me that the crew decides before each bombing hop whether they will go down in their parachutes or make a forced landing. Will Land in Water. The decision that night was that if we get hit we would try to make a water landing. I concurred in the decision. Jerry said he felt we would have a better chance to survive if we made a water landing and remained together in the rubber boat with which our bomber was equipped. He explained that the jungle surrounding surround-ing the target was practically impenetrable. im-penetrable. We would stand little chance to survive if we parachuted into the wilderness. I listened intently to the discussion, discus-sion, but all the time I was saying to myself: "These guys think of the most pleasant topics." Suddenly the chatter was smothered smoth-ered by the crack of one plane motor backfiring as it was started. In a few minutes we were deafened by the noise of all four motors. Lieutenant Crume poked me and shouted in my ear: "All aboard." I followed the crew as they crawled through the belly door. I was the last aboard. The others crowded forward. I found myself standing on the catwalk between the bomb racks. They were loaded to crossed. We were caught between two Jap searchlights. The co-pilot yelled: "They've got us in the lights." I looked out the window just as another shell burst to our starboard side. The Jap searchlights blinded blind-ed me and I jumped back, certain that I had been seen. A second later I felt silly. Enemy anti-aircraft fire was bursting burst-ing all around us. It was my first trip aboard a heavy bomber on a night mission. Yes, I was a little scared. "Bombs away," Lieutenant Crume yelled. I leaned out the window and looked down as Jerry banked the plane. The sky was illuminated by the searchlights search-lights and the anti-aircraft fire. It seemed only seconds before the first cluster of bombs landed squarely in a Jap bivouac area. The Louisville bombardier's eye was keen that night. Bomb after bomb landed on the target. Perfect Fasting. I was unmindful, of the shells bursting around our plane as I poked my head out of the window. The temptation to watch those bombs as they hit was too great. A feeling of pride engulfed me as each cluster found its mark. Here I was in the air watching a Louisville boy pasting the Japs. And he was doing a perfect per-fect job. As Lieutenant Crume cut loose with the last clusters I could see huge fires burning below. We didn't lose any time leaving the target after our bombs had been spent. Several miles away from the scene the Japs were still sending up anti-aircraft fire. But we had escaped. Later I learned from the rear gunner that two anti-aircraft shells burst just under the tail of our B-24. Most of the crew slept on the return re-turn trip. When we landed long after aft-er dawn that morning, I gave Lieutenant Lieu-tenant Crume a lusty pat on the back and said: "You can bomb for my money." And as we walked into the medical med-ical dispensary near the squadron's operations hut, I said: "Lieutenant, I don't suppose a marine has ever admitted the army is hot, but I want to say you boys have plenty on the ball." I left Lieutenant Crume a few seconds sec-onds later. I know he and his crew are still giving the Japs hell in the midst of the new Allied ollcnsive in the Solomon Islands. 1 pc''5:wftW:.v--5;r JrjKl .Sf?VWWrV Km??irmiw9nir?rMtf ! - v 3 ? 'r - - - j I ' ' j i In this jungle cemetery under blue tropical skies, these marines who made the supreme sacrifice find peace. Comrades in arms bow their heads while the chaplain reads the Mineral rile. (Official Marine Corps photo.) tightly on a lighted cigarette. I turned in a circle and picked out a comfortable chair in front of a desk. The corporal who had introduced me to the pilot apparently had detected the sudden changu in the color of my complexion, because he chuckled and shoved a map under my nose. "Here," he said, "You can compose com-pose yourself by studying tonight's target." I said nothing, but I certainly didn't appreciate his humor. Thirty minutes later I was shaking shak-ing hands with the crew members of our big four-motored bomber. There were the co-pilot, bombardier, navigator, and four other gunners. From 'Old Kentucky.' One of the gunners inquired: "Where you from, Sarge?" When I replied "Kentucky," the diminutive, diminu-tive, wiry bombardier shoved his hand out and said: "Boy, give me five. That's where I'm from, too. Louisville's my home." And so again, I was shaking the hand of the bombardier, Second Lieut. Jesse W. Crume, U.'S. Army, from Louisville. We eased away from the group, sat on the steps of the operations hut and talked of mutual mu-tual acquaintances back in Louisville until we boarded the truck for the field. As we rumbled along the bumpy road toward Henderson Field, where our plane awaited us, Lieutenant Crume assured me Jerry was an excellent ex-cellent pilot and that he would bring us back safely. "Hut what about the Jap ack-ack?" ack-ack?" I asked. capacity with their lethal charges. Jerry raced the motors for the usual test. In a few minutes we were rumbling down the strip on the take-off. I felt I was in a' precarious spot. I could only hope that the giant Liberator Lib-erator cleared the cocoanut trees at the end of the field. I was relieved as I felt the wheels leave the metal strips on tiie field and rise into the dnrkne.ss over Henderson Field. We gained altitude. Soon we were heading head-ing toward our target. Out over the water I was told to go aft to my station. I examined my machine gun. (The marine corps public relations section of which I am a member was trained in aerial gunnery before leaving the States.) Then I fixed the communications set on my head and plugged in for a test. Jerry, at the controls, was singing. I looked at my watch. We still had a lot of flying ahead of us. Turn on Oxygen. At 12,0(10 feet Jerry called over the 'phone suggesting that we start using us-ing oxygen. I welcomed the word for I was beginning to feel groggy from lack of heavy air. I also felt the bite of the cold at Hint height and wriggled into the llcccc-lincd leather suit. "Bolser," Lieutenant Crume called over the 'phone, "jiiiit wanted to let you know that when I say 'bombs away' you might take a look down and sec how my eye is tonight. Jerry will bank just afler I let 'cm go and you should get a pretty good look." Thirty minutes away from the tar- "Well," shot bark Lieutenant Crume, "There's not much Jerry can do about that. Wc can only hope the Japs don't get us in their searchlights search-lights tonight." In 45 minutes we were to take off. Speaking to roe, Lieutenant C'ruinc said: "Holser, we have a line group of boys in our outfit. They're regular regu-lar guys. Arifl you can ;;ee how tliey feel about this tiling. There are only tvo things they give u damn tilmut now. One in bombing hell out of the Jap:!, ami the olher in getting the war over a:; 'iitickly an possible." Jerry addressed the group. "Wli.-i t.'Il It hi! thin morning?" he nskeil. "Will we bail out or Ml.iy togelher anil uuike u wafer landing,''" get Jerry called back to prepare the wai.sl guns. The other waist gunner and I opened the windows. I feu the ammunition belt into Ihe gun and charged it. It was ready for action as I poked it through the window. The temperature at our height was so cold thai m.v lingers were stilT by the time I had adjusted my gun. A few seconds later I got the se.-iro of my life. To Ihe right of the plane a ball of lire burst. Al Ihe sumo time cnnie Jerry's voice: "We're just about over the target." I caught myself shying away as a a-eiind burst of tire came nearer our plane. Jerry didn't have lo loll me we were Hearing Ihe target. The Japs were spewing mil i n irei aft shells up lit us. Two lights split Ihe sky and |