IN A CATALINA

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 87, 6 July 1943, Page 6

IN A CATALINA

ON "THE OLD MILK RUN" Pi eked up by a Catalina . . . Bombed, by a Catalina. We. read of it when Japanese convoys try to reach New Guinea. The "Cats" arc the night eyes oL' our striking air forces. They patrol as well as attack. This story by Pilot Officer J. C. Waters telis what happens. "Night after night you will lind us in flight On the old milk run. Sunset to dawn you will lind us air-borne On the old milk run;' Most things that happen iu Australia's Catalina squadrons are parodied and, set to music. It must be because, they arc men of the sea as well as airmen. They like to sing their own chanties. Those four lines, with a few others that cannot. be revealed,, arc sung to the tune of "The Band Played On." "There's a milk run on ,to-night." said the C.O. "Would you care to be in it?" Milk run? Milk run! That was; a new one 1 on me. * Pretty Monotonous "It's 1 a regular patrol," he said. "Pretty monotonous, really. Anything up to 22 hours, depending on the area that has to lie covered." But actually the oltl milk run need not be monotonous. It can be full of drama, action, tragedy. The quiet, blue-eyed, fair-haired C.O. is now among the missing. I went. Twenty-six year old Squad ron Leader Vic Hodgkinson, brother of the war artist./ was the captain. The intelligence officer (now also missing) counted out our packets of emergency rations. Ave piled into a tender, into a launch, and through the gun blisters; into the belly of the .floating Catalina.

The young engineer climbed into his seat, felt his engines. In a few minutes "Hodge,," Avith second pilot beside him, had us oil' water and sailing steadily on the course. All in Readiness The observer and. navigator leaned over his table. The wireless operator clamped on his headgear, swung his dials. The gunners; snapped home the ammunition drums, fingered the triggers, adjusted the sal'eiy catches. Inter-communica-tion phones were plugged in, tested. Under each wing were bombs ready for release. That evening I had. fried stead and boLled potatoes sitting in the gun blisters, and Hying through the haze of, Buna. Over the air we l learned of an "all clear" at Milne Bay. Earlier we picked up a call to Moresby: "Have ambulance ready. Am preparing to make' direct jump." Messages like that break the spell of continuous watch for enemy ships. Right through the night Ave •went,, combing the sea against enemy movement. The moon was high and pale, her face thinly veiled to hide her reflection. Nearing the Enemy There is suddenly a tenseness. "Hodge" slips out of his seat and into the navigator's room. We are only a few miles off an enemy base. There are signs of submarines. They look at the chart. I rush to the blisters; you can see better there. We swing to port and catch the path of the moon. The sub. has crash-dived, before we lind him for our run. It is not always as, .smooth as that. North of Buna one night Squadron Leader F. B. Chapman, the C.0., "Chappie'' to the blueeyes and fair hair., found a Jap destroyer. The Jap was doing 20 knots Chapi:>ie dropped down to IODO feet, and Bob Burne, navigator and bomb aimer, let 'em go across, the' bows. When llares Ave re dropped there was no sign of the destroyer—only a long line of oil leading lo a patch of JSOO yards by 100. A few hours later they came across a 3000-ton merchant ship. Chappie had only two bombs left. He dropped to 2200 feet. One bomb landed* 25 yards to port: the 1 other bomb failed to go. He made another run. The bomb still stuck. He brought it home. They liked talking about Chappie in the Cata'ina mess. They will alwavs talk about, him. "Australia's foremost Calalina pilof. they said. "Never asks us to do anything lie doesn't do hansel I'. Always ready with a warm smile of comradeship and encouragement, 'A *m?ck of the sea in his direct blueeyes ." ; He meant as much to these squad-1 rons as did "Old John" Jackson J;

original Squadron 75 "when i-t fought off the Japs at Moresby. Chappie was out on the "old milk run" a lew "weeks ago. This time, south of Gasmata. he struck a small convoy—a merchant ship, a cruiser and destroyer. He signalled i'or the Beaufort torpedo bombers. While they were on the way Chappic shadowed the ships, strafed the destroyed. He kept on their tail l'or four hours. The Beauforts dropped flases for guidance. Chappie, blue-eyed, stern, slipped in, dropped his bombs, strafed the decks of the cruiser. "I'll make 'em open up on us," * was aLI he said. They did. One shot passed through his port wing. The Beauforts launched their attack; results could not be observed. And now blue-eyed. Chappie is missing "on the old milk run." The "old. milk run" has proved its worth. It Avas a Catalina on patrol that picked up the Jap 10-ship convoy on the way to Lac in January. Young David Vernon was the captain. It -was pitch dark. All that Avas A'isible Ave re the dim' blots of the ships 011 a smooth sea, a phosphorescent Avake as they cut through the Avater headed for the mainlauu. Vernon "waited Jii.s chance. He unloaded from 4000 feet. The transport blew up in a blast of llame and smoke, and. sank. Intelligence reports haA'e since . placed the Japanese loss at 700 or 800 men. In the subsequent battle the Japanese lost three or four ships and 114 aircraft destroyed and probably destroyed. Things ease off on the Avay home. Out of the danger zone the: skipper hands over to his second. He turns in on one of the four canvas bunks; other members of the crew not. on duty are already at rest, sleeping or reading. They like thrillers. But the skipper sleeps at only "hair trigger" -depth. Out in the pilot's cabin Ave turn up the nose ever so slightly. There are black clouds ahead. The bulkhead door opens and "Hodge" steps in. "What, thick ahead?'" he says. "Yes, slooks like it," says the second "'dick.'' "0.K.," savs Hodge, and goes back to the bunk. e breakfasted down oA'er the Coral Sea. ■Kgg.s and bacon and eoll'ee A\ hen Ave touched dmvn we. had been out 21. hours minutes. We . shaved, bathed, and went to bed. Another crew that day took up the "run," while, others Avcnt oil' 011 a ' "bash" to Kahili. That night in the mess we sang to. the tune of "The Man on lj|ic Flying Trapeze":— Then down through the clouds on the old bank and turn. Somebody yells and there's just astern. Down on the. water the landing flares burn. " '| The Cat Boats lurvc made it again !