Early Days and a Mission to Midway

Wings of Gold, Spring 2004 by Kuehn, John T

Editor's note: CDR Kuehn interviewed LCDR Archie Mills, USN (Ret.) who flew in the Pacific Theater during WWII. The following account is a condensation of remarks by LCDR Mills, in response to CDR Kuehn's questions.

My cousin and I used to go down to the old Kansas City airport and watch the airplanes approach, land, pick up passengers and take off. "Heavens, what a life that would be, flying airplanes!" I thought. It was 1938 and I was 24 years old.

I met a TWA pilot and asked him about flying for the airline. "You've got to have 1,000 hours pilot time to start," he told me. "Why not fly in the military, log 1,000 hours, then come back and I'll give you a job."

An article in the local newspaper indicated the Navy was looking for pilots so I went to the old Kansan hotel in Topeka along with 11 other aspirants, took a physical exam and became one of the five who qualified for the V5 cadet program. I was ordered to Fairfax Field in Kansas City for "elimination training" and flew in N2S Yellow Perils.

I had logged seven hours when my check pilot, a commander who I think was the XO for the base, said, "You're ready for your check."

There was a blizzard the day of the check flight. I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me. I was in the ready room when, unbelievably, over the intercom, the check pilot summoned me to the flight line. I did as ordered while other students pressed their noses to the window, watching. Even though it was snowing heavily we took off and did the check despite the fact that there was really no clear area in which to work. I proceeded to flunk the check flight because I couldn't land that plane in the snow storm. In those days, you flunk once, you go home.

Despondent, I packed my clothes and was about to leave when I said to myself, "This isn't right." I trooped up to the office of Captain AuIt, CO of the base, asked to see him and was ushered into his office.

"What can I do for you, son?" he asked. I explained that it was unfair to have to fly a check flight in terrible weather conditions. More importantly, I pleaded that "I must fly in the Navy." I went on, describing how much I wanted to be a part of an organization. I loved airplanes and deeply appreciated the way the Navy kept theirs in immaculate condition, not to mention a hangar deck so clean you could almost eat off it.

"Are you're saying you should never should have gone on that flight because of the weather?" he asked.

"Yes sir," I answered in a firm voice. "That was not flying weather for qualifying a cadet in elimination phase of training. I request another chance because I know I can fly and I believe my instructor will tell you that."

"For now, go on home," the Captain said, "you'll be hearing from me."

Within weeks I got a call to return and see the Captain.

"I'm going to give you another chance to fly," he said, "but you better make it because the future of everyone who follows you through this program will depend on whether you can do it or not. If you fail the second time around, no one else will get another chance."

I got my wings in Corpus Christi and was assigned to PBYs. In those days new pilots were on a roster list and dividing lines were drawn indiscriminately. One group got fighters, another got dive bombers and others got patrol boats. A lot of tears were shed, including mine. I wanted to be a fighter pilot but got patrol boats instead. In the end, it was the best thing. I spent a lot of time waiting around for training gates because I could not complete training ahead of the Naval Academy graduates in my year group.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor we were given two weeks leave before being sent to Hawaii. I was assigned to VP-21 but at Pearl Harbor I was told VP-21 had been wiped out in Australia so I was sent to VP-24.

One day the word came down that three volunteer crews were needed for "special training" (a euphemism for a dangerous combat mission). I was so anxious to fly I signed up. I was an ensign at the time. Our crew's PBY used the Mark 13 torpedo, an unreliable weapon, mounted under the wing. The aircraft also had a "rattrap" bomb site which we had to use. Unfortunately, there was no earthly way I could turn that rattrap to acquire a lead and hit the target.

As for the "rat trap," I think it was built by the British. It was a round object about the size of a 2 pound coffee can with a compass rose on the outside. Underneath was a bar that served as a sighting device. It was meant to be mounted in the overhead of the PBY. The pilot on the left was supposed to use this thing. There was no way a normal man could fly the plane for a torpedo run and also use this rat-trap.

We removed the rat-traps and used "seaman's eye" to launch the torpedo. With practice we got pretty good at this. Our crew was the smartest bunch of young men you ever saw, eager and quick learners. There were four Catalinas for the mission, three from VP-24, one from VP-51.

We were ordered to Midway and made it in 10 hours at 105 knots. We arrived at five in the afternoon on June 3,1942 and went into the underground bunkers for briefings where we were handed a sealed envelope containing our orders, not to be opened until we were in our aircraft. We were to takeoff in a few hours and proceed 460 miles on a given heading in a four plane formation seeking the Midway invasion fleet commanded by Japanese RADM Tanaka. We had little rest but we knew the mission was important.