Prowling the Pacific night

Flight Journal, Oct 2003 by Martin, Michael

Harassing the enemy with a PBY

IN THE DAYS PRIOR TO WW II, the Navy seaplanes known as Catalina Patrol Bombers (PBYs) were ridiculed in aviation circles for being both ugly and laughably slow. The first few months of the War did little to dispel the notion that if the plane wasn't exactly obsolete, it soon would be. The experience of Russell Enterline, an aviation radioman who served with Patrol Squadrons 101 and 102 in the Philippines, was typical. Just after daybreak on December 10, 1941, while the Japanese attacked his base at Sangley Point, Enterline watched a plane he had often flown in speed across the water as it tried desperately to get airborne.

"Again, the pilot tried," recalled Enterline, "and this time, he succeeded in bringing the Catalina up 'on the step,' and he lifted off. But I watched in absolute horror as a Japanese fighter picked up that plane from behind. Flying up the wake, its bullets strafed the water before ripping into the tail assembly. As the fighter pulled up, parts of the PBY's tail flew off. The plane seemed to hang still in flight for a second or two, but then it exploded and fell into the water in many burning parts."

During the War's first few months, Japanese gunners and fighter pilots shot so many PBYs out of the sky that assignment to a PBY crew must have seemed a lot like a death sentence. For example, of the 28 seaplanes that were operating in the Philippines when fighting began, only three were still flying in the following spring.

Ed Aeschliman was aboard a PBY that left Pearl Harbor on January 6, 1942, bound for the area just south of the Philippines. Nine days later, his plane was making its final approach for a landing at Ambon on the island of Ceram. "We had already started our landing approach when Japanese fighters peeled off from an incoming bomber and fighter attack and simply took us by surprise. I don't know how many fighters were involved, but I well remember the sound of bullets passing through the hull. It sounded like a tin can full of marbles was being shaken-only much louder. My first thought was 'We sure didn't last long!'

"Somehow we managed to get both waist guns and the forward turret gun firing by the time the Japanese came in for their second run. The net result of that effort was that an ammunition box was shot out of our turret gunner's hands while he was reloading. Still under attack, we hit the water and taxied as fast as we could for the protection of the trees and heavy foliage on the beach. After reaching shallow water, we left the plane and staggered ashore."

When the raid was over, they returned to the plane to find it so badly shot up that there was nothing left to salvage. In truth, by early 1942, it appeared that there was little military advantage to salvage from any PBY.

Yet by the War's end, crews flying these very same aircraft would sink several hundred thousand tons of enemy shipping, save countless lives and make an incalculable contribution to the Allied cause in the Pacific. How the ineffectual PBY evolved into the much-feared Black Cat is one of the least told stories of the entire War.

The metamorphosis of the Navy's "ugly duckling" can be attributed partly to a technological breakthrough and partly to simple black paint. But most of the credit must go to the resourceful, courageous young men (the average age of PBY pilots was 24) who pioneered aggressive ways to use their planes. In the process, they turned the PBY's more dubious qualities into deadly assets.

The change began in early 1942 when a number of Catalinas were outfitted with a primitive form of radar. On the evening of June 3, 1942, four of them took off from Midway Island. After successfully locating the position of a huge Japanese fleet in the dark, they launched the first night torpedo attack in Naval history. Unfortunately, only one torpedo struck home, but it did severely damage the tanker, Akebono Maru.

As daring as that attack was, it had little effect on the ensuing Battle of Midway; however, it did signal a significant change in the way seaplanes were used by the Navy. As Rear Adm. Raymond Spruance noted afterward, "Night torpedo attack, employing radar, represents one of the few profitable offensive uses of our patrol seaplanes."

As it turned out, there were plenty of other offensive uses for the PBY, but most wouldn't be discovered until fighting in the Solomon Islands reached a critical stage. The Marine landing and takeover of the airfield at Guadalcanal on August 7, 1942, had been the first serious challenge to Japanese expansion in the Western Pacific. The enemy was absolutely determined to drive the Americans off the island, but as there were no nearby airfields where Japanese planes could fly cover for Japanese ships, Marine Corps aircraft based at Henderson Field controlled the seas around Guadalcanal during the day.

After nightfall, it was a different story. Enemy ships steamed down New Georgia Sound (the "Slot") to offload troops and equipment and to shell Marine positions. With each side free to resupply its troops, a nasty stalemate developed; but it was a stalemate that the PBY played a big part in breaking after its pilots learned how to best operate that plane in the dark.