The Strength In Us All, page 32
The Avenger was a significant force in the Second World War. The plane was tough, rugged and honest. As a weapons carrier, it was extremely adaptable, its payload including bombs, torpedoes, rockets and depth charges, along with wing gunpower. It was a dive bomber, torpedo bomber, effective in the day and a great night fighter bomber. All this teamed with Charlie’s aggressive and ambitious nature. Then add radar, air-to-air search and interception, and even dog fighting with a Zero to its already many accomplishments, and you have quite a machine. Yet it was described as ‘underpowered’, ‘overloaded with unnecessary junk’ and had the nickname of ‘Turkey’!
Despite being originally designed as a torpedo bomber, the torpedoes were so unreliable and never ran true that the pilots adopted dive bombing tactics to deliver their payload. It was fortunate the plane was well put together because it was stress-tested by Charlie, repeatedly. As it was by all the other pilots.
Many Avengers made it back to the carrier or land base with unbelievable damage, it just wouldn’t quit. It was outstanding in all theatres of the war—from the Atlantic, causing havoc with the U-Boats; to the Pacific, where it destroyed around sixty Japanese warships. And Charlie was right in the thick of it every chance he got, and loving every minute.
In a book written about the Avenger in 1979 Charlie contributed a chapter about his adventures and experiences during the war. The foreword was written by Charlie’s commanding officer on the Enterprise, Vice-Admiral William I. Martin, Ret. The author sent Charles a copy of the book in thanks for his contribution. Bill also inscribed Charlie’s copy. It read:
To Charlie Henderson,
He excelled in aerial combat—a rare breed of pilot—so highly skilled as to get all the performance from Avenger that aeronautical engineers had designed into it—even to proving it a FIGHTER!
With admiration, respect and affection.
Bill Martin
Charles often told us stories of their adventures during the war. Many nights and days the children and I would sit enthralled as Charlie relived his amazing experiences.
During his wartime flying Charlie sank ships, bombed and destroyed airstrips and land installations and shot down four enemy aircraft in air-to-air combat. After shooting down five aircraft, a fighter pilot was considered an ‘ace’. Charlie shot down four in the Avenger bomber. Despite doing many wonderful things the plane was not hailed as one of the wonders of the war. In fact, it had quite a few very unnerving habits like ‘settling off the bow’ of the carrier on take-off. Even on a catapult launch, there were the alarming seconds when the plane lost contact with the deck and sank (or settled) into black nothingness, the propeller desperately fighting to adjust to the load that had suddenly been thrust upon it. In daylight it required a strong stomach to wait to see if you went into the drink before your plane took control of the situation. But at night the feeling of floating and then sinking slowly into the black void below created men with strong nerves.
Charlie described take-off to me many times … and the surge of adrenalin he would feel as the plane ‘settled’ off the bow, for those few split seconds.
‘Your engine roars as your eyes watch for the glow of the signal, in the night. Then you and the plane are catapulted down the deck towards space, the sky and sea, all enveloped in the black night. The white line down the deck, your only point of reference, suddenly disappears; the wheels break free of the friction with the deck and an eerie, floating silence pervades the roar of the engine as the propeller struggles to bite the air and laboriously lift the plane and its deadly payload into the night sky.
‘The plane would painfully drop towards the water while struggling to gain control. As it drops, your stomach rises up into your throat, but at the same time you have this sinking feeling.’
How your stomach can be going in two different directions at once, I do not know. But Charles assured me it did.
‘You wait for the stabilising effect of the water to sustain lift, to stop your descent; but for many seconds, stomach and nerves all suffer the terrible uncertainty.
‘Coming off the deck, the water seems all too close, just feet below you. But when looking back, during those sinking seconds, the deck looks like the top of a very high mountain. You stay low over the water, to gain speed, even though the desire is to get as high as you can as quickly as possible. With a lot of confidence in yourself as a pilot and more in your plane not to miss a beat, it finally starts to climb. At all times, you are conscious of the fact that if the engine misses one beat, you will be in the water in seconds.
‘You gain altitude and finally realise you’ve broken free. And you can relax, until the next time.’
Then all he had to do was find his target, avoid the anti-aircraft guns, drop the bombs and rockets, avoid the enemy fighters, find his way back to the carrier without being shot down, hope the carrier was not under attack, hope it was where it was supposed to be, hope the carrier escorts didn’t think he was enemy planes attacking and open fire, hope he didn’t run out of fuel before he could find his carrier in a fleet that covered an area of more than forty miles, hope the sea wasn’t too rough to prevent landing, and hope when he did land on the deck he didn’t miss the hook!
No wonder flying after the war was boring for Charlie.
There was no doubt, life on board the carrier during the war was the most exciting time of Charlie’s life. He completed two tours, flying with Air Group 10, around the middle of 1944. It was about this time that the merits of night flying were becoming recognised and Charlie’s commander, Bill Martin, started to form a night squadron. Charles was in like a flash. He already found the challenge exciting, but to be a night attack fighter bomber was just his cup of tea, and to be aboard the Enterprise again suited him just fine. So it was more training. Night flying was a whole new kettle of fish up to this point in the war, and had only been tested lightly. Bill was one of the first few to advocate its advantages. But he had problems selling his night bombing theory. It was argued that this sort of thing was supposed to be done during the day, when you could see. But Bill argued that with radar, night flying would be twice as effective as day. He was very stubborn and was finally allowed to train his squadron of eager and daring pilots. They practised long and hard. Whenever they had the chance they flew at night, using only instruments, tracking down targets by radar.
This dedicated training paid off, and when the squadron returned to the carrier it was a squadron with special skills and was ready for any mission.
Of course after Charles had tried every avenue to become a fighter pilot and failed, he applied his favourite philosophy, ‘turn a problem into an asset’. He wanted a fighter plane but he had a bomber. And now at night the squadron had to do much more than just bomb. So he and some of the other enthusiastic members of the squadron set about to change their Avengers into a more manoeuvrable, faster bomber, which could put up a good fight, and have a few surprises up its sleeve as well.
Naturally all the changes and modifications requests they had in mind were turned down by Bureau of Air so Bill finally went to the top to seek help. He was in turn told that the aeronautical engineers had studied these modifications and had reported back that the plane could not fly if these changes were carried out. Bill told the admiral that in that case he would like alternative transport back to his squadron, because he had just flown there in a modified TBM Avenger and he sure as hell didn’t want to fly back in it if it couldn’t fly!
The changes went ahead. Because they were now flying full time at night, it was reasoned that the turret gun wasn’t needed; so it was removed, along with a lot of armour plate that protected the gunner and other unused equipment. It all added up to around 1500 pounds. With the space gained and weight loss achieved they put in more fuel tanks, increasing the plane’s endurance. The rearrangement of weight moved the plane’s centre of gravity forward and as a result pilots found it was difficult keeping the tail down. This was a problem, as the tail hook was a very important factor in landing and staying on the deck! It was solved by putting a large lump of lead in the tail, and the plane once again behaved like a flying machine.
Navigating at night caused many problems. Getting the planes lined up, in the right position to approach the carrier, was difficult. And landing on a moving deck was not without its hazards either. To help with the approach a hooded amber light was positioned where it was only visible at a certain point in the approach pattern. When the light was visible to the pilot he would start his turn towards the flight deck. At this point on his advance he could pick up the deck signalling officer and stop flying on instruments and come in to land with the deck officer. Indirect red lighting was used in the cockpit, in the briefing room; even the pilot’s flashlights were red. Everything possible was done to preserve night visibility. Cockpit instruments were regrouped to better accommodate night flying, along with a buzzer alarm installed on the radio altimeter to prevent the pilots misjudging height and flying into the water. The new .50 calibre wing guns had night sights. They were ready!
A week later they went into Truk.
It was the squadron’s first night attack. It was in the eerie dark hours before sunrise … they came in low over the harbour. Charles swooped low over the anchored ships, dropping one bomb on each run, making every one count, weaving and dodging AA fire and only flying straight and steady for the split second of the drop. After he had inflicted as much damage as possible he headed out to sea and safety to rendezvous with the squadron. He spotted a small sea plane and immediately gave chase; it was much faster than the Avenger and headed for safety, trying to lure Charles into the fire of the anti-aircraft guns. Charles let off one last burst from his guns and pulled away sharply to avoid the flak.
Now completely out of ammo, he headed once more for the rendezvous. As he approached the outer reef he saw another Avenger approaching out of the first faint shafts of light of the new day. It was trailing a lot of smoke, but what held Charles’s full attention was the Japanese Zero coming up on its tail. The wounded plane was a sitting duck, although a tail shot is no easy matter. Charles knew it was just a matter of time—the Zero only had to change its angle and that would be it. So in went Charlie … His guns were empty so he did the only thing he could—he harassed the Zero by diving on him, and the Zero got as mad as hell. He forgot the wounded Avenger and decided to teach this saucy bomber who dared to play Chicken with a Zero a real life or death lesson. He soon realised Charlie didn’t have any ammo, so he was now sure it was a death lesson he was about to teach.
The wounded Avenger limped off into the sunrise billowing smoke but on course for home, while Charlie had one hell of a mad Zero pilot on his hands, intent on punishing him for interfering with his easy kill.
The Zero pulled up gracefully in a chandelle, in the lead and perfectly positioned for a high side run. As he climbed, Charles dived off in a forty-five-degree downward line from the Zero. As the Zero hit the top of his climb, and peeled off to start his attack run, Charles pulled up from his dive and executed a neat half-roll and ended up on the opposite course. They were now face to face, approaching each other on a collision course, playing Chicken!
Charles would describe each second of the attack, savouring it. He had the Zero in his sights, the two planes flashed towards each other at alarming speed, Charles’s finger on the button to ignite his guns, even though he had no ammo the reflexes leading up to an attack centred around pushing that button.
‘Come on, you bastard,’ he whispered. ‘Come to Daddy, you son-of-a-bitch! Nearly there! Nearly there! Come on! Wait! Don’t go too soon … wait … NOW!’ And at that split second he wrenched the control stick to the side and executed a violent snap roll, throwing the plane over until it was standing on its wing-tip. He corrected and stabilised the roll to hold the plane in that position as the two planes flashed past each other at impact point.
Playing Chicken was the only thing he could do. With no ammo left, the Zero was too fast for him to run. So the only time they were equal was when coming at each other on a collision course, testing pilot skill. Charlie was at a disadvantage plane-wise; he had to manoeuvre into position with a plane not up to the fighter he was facing. He survived the first run—by jumping sideways at that precise moment when he knew the Zero would fire a hail of bullets at him.
He climbed sharply into a near stall, keeping his eyes on the Zero. He had gained those few precious seconds while the Zero registered shock at the agility of this bomber. But the Zero then climbed faster, and positioned himself on an opposite run—looking like he had accepted Charles’s challenge to a duel. Again the two planes faced each other and repeated the action. For a second time Charles snapped his plane out of the Zero’s path at the last second, to the same side. The Zero had anticipated a jump to the other side and corrected his course at the last moment to send a hail of bullets off in the direction he thought Charles would jump. He knew the bullets would rip open the underbelly of the bomber. He was wrong and Charlie had won two out of two. The hail of death sprayed off into the morning sky, eventually falling harmlessly into the depths of the sea.
Charles got the better of the Zero and started to climb. The Zero calmly lined up on an opposite course, taking his time, knowing he had the upper hand and could call all the shots.
Charles lined up in the now early morning sun, taking all and any advantage he could find. Sweat ran down his arms as he started the third run. What will he think I’ll do now? were Charlie’s thoughts as he raced towards death. Will he think I’ll do three in a row? Charlie judged the sun perfectly and started his screaming dive in a blazing backdrop frame. The Zero lined up on an attack position. Charlie was fully aware his life depended simply on which way he jumped. At this point, screaming towards the other plane, he understood the mentality of the Kamikaze—his adrenalin pumping through his veins, his only thought was, ‘I’ll take him with me.’ It would be so easy … He jolted himself back to reality. What if he shoots a second earlier to catch me before I jump? Too many thoughts now scrambled his brain as the planes raced towards each other. The Zero watched and waited for one hesitation, one sign of weakness, then he would just pick off his target.
Charlie jumped for the third time, the Zero stayed straight and true and fired a split second earlier. The hail of bullets passed so close to the fuselage, Charlie could feel them whizzing by. Charles had gone to the same side again; three out of three. He wiped the sweat from his hands as best he could and looked for his enemy. The Zero recovered and moved into the sun, in the few seconds it took Charlie to gather his senses after too close a call. Charles took up battle positions as the Zero waited. And they were face to face again.
Will it be four in a row? Will he know I must jump the other way? Charlie’s brain was working overtime as he desperately tried to think the thoughts of his deadly opponent.
Charlie watched the Zero grow bigger and bigger … come closer and closer …
He didn’t consciously remember deciding to jump one way or the other, he just shouted, ‘NOW!’ at the precise moment he would have fired his guns, if he had had ammo. And once more he was out of the path of death.
How long will this go on? reasoned Charlie. It’s all right reading about all these manoeuvres. The theoretical tactics are just fine. Seriously analysing the moves and the outcomes on a blackboard in the briefing room with a bunch of other pilots is challenging … but doing it for real is a whole new kettle of fish.
‘Sweat was running down my back, legs and arms,’ Charles used to tell us, when relating the story to his spellbound audience. ‘I was gripping the control so tightly I was shaking. I had to brush the sweat out of my eyes continuously. I could feel my reactions starting to slow, and I knew this was what he was waiting for. But there was nothing I could do. I had to stay and fight, as long as he wanted to. I couldn’t run, he could pick me off at leisure. I had to stay in there and not crack—that’s what he wanted, what he was waiting for.’
Charlie lined up in the game of Russian roulette for the fifth time, knowing his odds were getting worse, but refusing to think along these lines. The bomber and the fighter were again ready to play Chicken. Again Charlie snap rolled out of the way, again to the same side; only this time the hail of bullets did not come. The Zero was now also out of bullets. What now? thought Charlie. Surely not a Kamikaze run!
He climbed into the sun, waiting, watching the Zero for the next move, cold sweat prickling his skin. With a flood of relief he saw the Zero waggle his wings in a salute to a good fight, and just maybe, to a good pilot, and head for home.
It had been an incredible encounter. Charles couldn’t believe he and his plane were in one piece. However, he still had to find his squadron and still had to find the carrier, and get back without running out of fuel! But the worst for the day was over, he hoped.
Charles’s success lay in his unusually aggressive tactics, in the face of unbelievable odds. To go to the aid of a wounded plane was brave and courageous to the extreme. But to go into battle with a fighter plane, a superior plane, with no ammo, was extraordinary bravery. The way he fought the battle was brilliant. Not waiting for the Zero to dictate the terms, he made every move as if he were attacking. If he had watched and waited and wondered he would have lost those precious split seconds that saved him each time.
Charlie received the DFC for sinking two ships that night. But he received nothing for the amazing encounter with the Zero, except thanks from the pilot he saved.
THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
WASHINGTON
The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the DISTINGUISHED FLYING CROSS to
LIEUTENANT CHARLES ENGLISH HENDERSON, III
UNITED STATES NAVAL RESERVE
