H-AGOM-WWilliams

Close Calls left their marks

War wounds tell the story for Paso man

By Phil Dirkx

Telegram- Tribune

PASO ROBLES -- William W. "Pat" Williams doesn't need Memorial Day to remind him of this nation's wars.

            The scar and pain in his right thigh are enough.

            That's where he was hit by machine gun fire from a Japanese fighter plane one week after the United States entered World War II in 1941.

            He then spent two years in a Philippine Islands jungle evading and resisting the occupying Japanese forces. Eventually he left the Philippines in a submarine that was attacked and damaged by Japanese depth charges.

 

Air Corps veteran “Pat” Williams has more than pictures to remind him of World War II.       Right 1994

            Last month he went to a reunion of people who served and traveled on that submarine, the USS Narwhal.

            He and his now-deceased wife came to Paso Robles in 1980 to escape the cold climate of the East Coast and to be closer to relatives.

Taken during recuperation, 24 years old, Brisbane Army Hospital, Australia

            Williams was born Jan 2, 1920 in Whitefield, Okla, but was raised by relatives in North Hollywood where he graduated from High School in 1938. [12th grade only.]

            The only job he could find was in the Army. He enlisted Oct 4, 1938.

            He was trained to be a mechanic and gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress. On Nov. 20, 1941, his squadron took off from the continental United States for an island hoping flight across the Pacific to Clark Air Field in the Philippines.

            They arrived a few days before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii and plunged the United States into World War II.

            The Japanese also bombed Clark Field that day and destroyed about half the B-17s on the ground, Williams said, but his plane was spared because it was on a patrol flight at the time.

            After a second attack on Clark held the next day, his plane and the other flyable B-17s were sent to a field on Mindanao Island in the southern Philippines.

            A week later Williams' plane and other B-17s took off to bomb some Japanese ships. But one of his plane's four Engines overheated and shut down, so it fell behind the others.

            When it arrived over the targets, the other B-17s had already dropped their bombs and the air was full of Japanese Zero fighter planes.

            "It was like a hornet's nest" Williams said.

            "We dropped some bombs," he said, "and then the Zeros were on our tail They shot out part of the (plane's) control cables."

            Those early B-17s didn't have tail guns. Williams' battle station was in the "bathtub," a bulge in the plane's belly that was equipped with twin .50 caliber machine guns.

            "I was busy firing those guns," he said. "They were coming from the left and right"

            He was one of four gunners the plane's mid-section. The others-were two waist gunners firing from each side and the radio operator, who shot twin machine guns from the top of the plane.

            Williams' guns jammed, but being a mechanic he managed to clear them with a screwdriver.

            Then the radio operators guns jammed and he asked Williams to change places with him and unjam the guns.

            "He got into the bathtub," Williams said "and instantly his head was blownoff.

            "A little later I was hit in the right upper thigh by a bullet and parts of the B-17," he said. "I spun around on the floor watching bullets come through the plane, pop, pop, pop, like little firecrackers."

            He wasn’t quite 21 years old at the time.

            The waist gunners were also wounded. One had a thumb shot off but he kept shooting, Williams said, and the other was shot in the arm and the neck.

            They were too busy to help Williams. even though he was losing blood. Fortunately he remembered his Boy Scout first-aid training about points in the body to press to stop bleeding, so he kept pushing on the right pressure point and saved his life, he said.

            The Japanese bullets also knocked out one of the plane's engines, so now only two were still running. And bullets had also damaged the pilots' control panel and injured the co-pilot, but the plane almost made it back to the airfield when the third engine overheated and conked out.

            They crash-landed several miles short of the field. The plane skidded, tipped up on its nose and then "came back down, ker-plop," Williams said.

Williams survived this B-17 crash landing on Mindanao Island, Philippines

            Its 100-octane aviation fuel was spilling and the rest of the crew jumped and ran, but Williams couldn't drag himself out. "I was waiting to be cremated alive," he said.

            But the fire never started, so he hollered, "Hey, get me out of here," and they came back.

            He was taken by horse and buggy to a Filipino hospital, where they treated him by shoving rags and sulfa powder into his wounds. That was the best they could do for him at the time, he said.

            Two months later he developed a serious infection and was transferred overland to an Army hospital, where he was given blood from another soldier.

            He lay beside me and gave me a direct blood transfusion," said Williams, who credits that transfusion with saving his leg from amputation.

            That was March 19, 1942. By the end of April he could walk but wasn't fully healed. Nevertheless, he was moved out of the hospital to make room for the many cases of malaria.

            He was given some bandages and anticeptic and told to try to find some members of his squadron, who had been converted to infantry soldiers.

            He found two of them guarding a radio station in the hills and joined them.

            Then on May 9, all American forces in the Philippines were told to give up to the nearest Japanese garrison.

            But Williams and his buddies, along with a Filipino radio operator, decided to head into the mountains instead. They went into unexplored territory, he said, where white men had never been.

            They learned to cut certain vines and drink the water that came from them, and to eat food they found growing in the jungle.

            They were also helped by the native people, called the Manobas, he said. After about a year, the Manobas told them where a guerrilla army was being formed.

            Williams and his companions joined the guerrilla army.

            But his wound had never really healed. The shrapnel still in it caused trouble and pain.

            He was eventually ordered to go to a bay on the coast to catch the next submarine that stopped to drop off supplies and intelligence officers.

The USS Narwhal transported Williams from the Philippines to Australia. The trip included a bout with Japanese depth charges.

            After a two-week walk and a five day wait he saw the USS Narwhal surface on March 3, 1944. He was the first of several passengers to go on board for the trip to Australia.

            But on the way the Narwhal torpedoed and sank a Japanese ship. Japanese destroyers then converged on the area and dropped depth, charges -- drums full of explosives that went off under water. One of them damaged the submarine's conning tower, Williams said.

            "I was shaking," he said "I was killed 10 times."

            The Narwhal survived but it had to crash dive several times more to avoid the enemy before surfacing off Australia.

            He was flown to an Army hospital at Brisbane, Australia for treatment of his wound and the skin diseases he had caught in the jungle.

            While in the hospital, the Red Cross told him his brother was in a hospital, in New Guinea and could be called on the telephone.

            “This is your brother, Pat Williams,” he said when he called his brother.

            “No it’s not,” his brother answered. “My brother has been dead two years.”

            Williams convinced his brother he was still alive, and the brother who was less seriously injured, flew down to Brisbane to see him.

            That brother was James Odas Williams, who was raised by an aunt in San Obispo and played football for Santa Clara University.

            He later had an insurance agency in Santa Maria and died about eight years ago.

            Williams made a career out of the service. After the war he served in Europe as a flight engineer on C-47s.

            In 1948 his plane was hauling 55 gallon drums of napalm to the Greeks who were fighting Communist rebels. Williams’ seat was behind and between the pilot and co-pilot. During one flight he stood up to speak to the pilot, and while he was standing a bullet came right through the seat he had been occupying.

            Williams first wife, Dorothy Evelyn, was a registered nurse and had been a first lieutenant in the Army. She died several years ago of cancer.

            They had two sons, who now live in Stockton: Paul, 44, an Amtrak conductor, and David, 41, a government employee, Williams said. He also has one grandchild.

            Twelve years ago he married his present wife, Betty. She went with him last month to Charleston, S.C. for the reunion of sailors from the USS Narwal and the passengers they carried to safety in 1943 and ‘44 from behind enemy lines.

 

            Williams retired from the Air Force in 1965 as a master sergeant with 27 years of active service. He then spent three years in the Reserves and retired again after being promoted to a second lieutenant. He'd held that rank temporarily in the Mindanao guerrillas.

....Little known facts about the Submarine....

Probably the most expensive ballast ever carried by a ship was two tons of gold and eighteen tons of silver pesos carried by the U.S. submarine TROUT while on a trip from Corregidor to Pearl Harbor early in World War II.

**O**

More decorations for valor have been awarded per man to the submarine service than any other Navy Branch.

 

This was provided by Wm. Williams, along with his story, at AGOM ‘94 reunion. DL 05-21-94.

            In early 1942 the public was eager to hear of success.  The following is from a San Francisco 1942 newspaper.  President Roosevelt in a radio address to the Nation, April ‘42 put the spotlight on this story.

 

            Captain Hewitt T. Wheless hero of an air battle in the Philippines in which four Flying Fortresses, one of which was his, were attacked by 18 Jap planes. Against these overwhelming odds they kept on their target sinking 6 Jap Transports. Captain Wheless brought his plane safely home. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.

            Williams wrote, “This was my pilot”

            President Roosevelt, during is radio address to the Nation April 28, swung the hero’s spotlight on Capt Hewitt T. Wheless of Menard, TX, United States Flying Fortress pilot. Here for the first time, is Capt Wheless’ own complete story of that amazing fight in the clouds against overwhelming numbers of Japanese planes during an attack on enemy transports landing invasion forces in the Philippines. To the men who made up the crew of his big bomber on that memorable flight, the modest winner of the Distinguished Service Cross gives full and complete credit for his own reward. As Captain Wheless says: “Let me tell you about those guys.”

            By Capt Hewitt T. Wheless

(As told to Lee Carson, International New Service staff correspondent).

Washington, May 18, 1942. Ten minutes away from our bombing target, [Legaspi Bay, Luzon, P.I. Dec 14, 1941] the gunner reports Japs coming in fast on either side and on our tail. We were in trouble all right, but we decided to go on ahead and unload the eggs as long as we were almost there.

“Helluva Fight” Capt Wheless uses a model of an American Flying Fortress to illustrate his story of the work of his crew in epic battle with Japs over Philippines.

            The Japs came in like greased lightning. Sgt Russell B. Brown and Sgt John M. Gootee were on the side guns. They got the two coming in on the side. Private William C. Killin, the radio operator, was in the “bathtub” -- the tunnel underneath. He had just traded places with Cpl William W. Williams, who was trying to unjam the top radio guns. Just as Killen crawled into the bathtub the Jap on our tail let loose, and Killin was killed. Our number 2 engine was shot out, at the same time as the Jab got the throttle cable.

            Things began happening pretty fast then. Williams got it in the hip and it tore his right leg wide open down to and below the knee. Just the same, he boosted himself up and tried to man the radio guns. He was pretty badly smashed up. But he tried.

RIDING IN HAIL OF LEAD

            The way the bullets were coming through the fuselage it was like being out in the open in a hail storm. But Sgt Albert H. Cellette -- the bombardier -- got the beam on our target and unloaded. We dropped about 4,800 pounds of stuff on them while their planes were coming at us like a bunch of hornets from a kicked over nest. Yep -- we were sure  busy.

            I was looking for clouds. When we came in toward the target we had a nice overcast to hide in. But when we came up on the target -- wham -- no clouds. Completely clear.

            The Japs were getting underway -- eighteen of them -- or there abouts -- non one had time to stop and count -- were swarming all over us. I was dodging in and out of what cloud scraps I could find. We’d be in one for ten of fifteen seconds, which gave the guys a chance to reload.

            My co-pilot Lt Taborek, and I did what we could. But it wasn’t much. Bullets were coming into the cockpit like rain. The instrument panel was shot to hell. A high explosive shell hit the radio and it opened up like a flower. Another one got the No 4 tank and the gasoline poured out.

            Ol’ Gootee caught a bullet in the hand and it just ripped his whole hand almost off. Only thing that kept it from falling off was a couple threads of flesh. So he put on a glove to hold his hand on his arm and helped Brown load and aim.

            That boy Brown was busy as a two headed cat in a creamery. He ran from one side to the other operating the side guns in the tail. Gootee’d reload for him while he was busy on the other gun. Then one of the Japs got a bead on Brown while he was working over the mess with his gun, shot the sights right off the gun and got Brown in the wrist. Without stopping his relay race between the two guns, he tied a handkerchief around it -- tight -- and went on shooting.

ANOTHER GUN JAMS

            The Navigator, Lt William F. Neenagh, went back to see if he could get Killin’s body out of the bathtub. But he couldn’t get him out. Williams’ gun jammed and Neenagh tried to help him fix them, but it was no go. So he came on back to is post and sort of alternated between what gunners were left.

            Cellette was down in the bombardier’s bubble at the guns. But we never get a head on attack so he couldn’t do anything but sit there and be shot at. Another round of fire got our flattener controls so the plane was wobbly as hell. We did the best we could, keeping her on an even keel with the rudder. By this time the  fortress looked like a worn out sieve.

            About seventy-five or a hundred miles later, the Japs wheeled and went off. Out of ammunition I guess. God knows they threw enough at us.

            Nobody said anything for a long while.

‘JUST CATCHING ON’

            Then Brown swore and said: “Hell, I was just catching on how to get ‘em -- and then they have to beat it. Of all the consarn luck!”

            At that he did pretty well. Between them the boys got six or seven Japs.

            We didn’t have but two of the engines left, and all but four control cables were shot out. But we managed to zigzag back the 350 miles. There wasn’t one word spoken on the trip back. They were all too tired, I guess. And not exactly in one piece.

            It was dark when we got over the field in the jungle. My front wheels were shot flat and the tail wheel had been shot off long ago. The field [Parade Field, Cagayan City, Mindanao Island, P.I.] had been barricaded against enemy landing, and I could just make out the rocks and stuff that had been scattered around it.

            For a minute I didn’t know whether it would be better to pancake in or try to land on those shot wheels. But with a wounded crew I didn’t want to shake ‘em up, so I tried the wheels.

WILLIAMS MAKES IT

            Williams had lost a lot of blood -- and I was afraid he wasn’t going to make it and the docs saved his leg too.

            I came in on the rims -- careful -- and as we hit the ground the plane nosed over and hung there while I held my breath. Then she settled back and we were all right.

            We quickly got some cars and took the crew off to the hospital, and got the Killin kid our of that bathtub -- at last.

            The men were something I tell you. All they had to say was that it was “one hell of a fight” and they just grinned.

            You know they all figure it’s war and we’ve got to lick the Japs. They welcome a scrap -- anytime -- any place. Sure they’re scared. They’d have to be idiots not to be. But that doesn’t bother them in a fight. They’ll all fight to the end. Take Brown -- he’d never been in combat before, and with his wrist plowed open to the bone he manned both those side guns -- and Gootee -- same thing.

PLANE AWASH IN BLOOD

            Williams had one of the ugliest shell rips I’ve ever seen. But he held on. Put a tourniquet around his leg and kept shooting until his guns jammed. I personally don’t know how he did it. That plane was awash with blood.

            I didn’t feel much like grinning when I said so long to the boys. They I reported to the commanding officer -- Maj “Rosie” O’Donnell. He heard me through with no comment.

            Then he said:

            “Have a drink, Wheless.”

            That’s all.

            A lot of guys in the Philippines went right on and fought in Java until that was shot from under them too. I got sent to Australia and missed it -- worst luck. Just wait until I get back there. Will I ever get a ribbing about all this “hero” stuff. I’m no “hero.” The heroes are still out there. My crew were the heros.

            Well, see you after the war. We’ll get together and throw milk bottles out of ten story windows -- just for fun.

B-17D #40-2073   1200 holes counted in plane and tires

            [“They crash landed several miles short of the field (Del Monte Field) ....” {Williams story}. The foliage was camouflage, to protect the remaining salvageable spare parts from being bombed.]

 

Epilogue:

            Capt H. Wheless, pilot, Australia, USA, then second in command 314th Wing B-29s Guam

            Lt Taborek, co-pilot, unknown

            Lt W. Neenagh, navigator, unknown

            Sgt A. Cellette, bombardier, unknown

            Sgt R. Brown, side gunner-mechanic, wounded, unknown

            Sgt J. Gootee, side gunner-mechanic, wounded, unknown

            Pvt W. Killin, top gunner-radio operator, killed

            Cpl Wm Williams, “bathtub” gunner-mechanic, wounded. Made his way from the very limited hospital facilities where he’d been left, to find fellows from his outfit, the 19th Bomb Group. Rather than surrender he went into the hills of Mindanao to survive as an AGOM, American Guerrilla of Mindanao. His wounds would not heal, after submarine contact, he was shipped out with four others on the Narwhal submarine to Australia where he was put in a good hospital removing remaining shrapnel from his wounds.

 

Wheless went from Mindanao to Australia and then to the US for Bond selling tours, and to help make a movie.  The media needed a hero and he was “ordered” to play the roll.  Wheless returned to the Pacific as deputy commander of the 314th Wing located at N. Field Guam, and often flew missions with 30th Squadron of the 19th BG.  Ed Whitcomb had roomed briefly with Shorty at Clark Field and kept in contact with Shorty’s daughter.

 

Photo taken on Iwo Jima, “Shorty” Wheless  is standing on the right, B29 pilot Tobin is seated in front of him.