EYES OF THE FORCES

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 52, Issue 32316, 20 September 1943, Page 6

EYES OF THE FORCES

DOMINION HUDSON UNITS PART IN PACIFIC WAR GUADALCANAR. Day after day. in fair weather or foul, Hudson aircraft of the New Zealand bomber-reconnaissance squadron now at Guadalcanal', take off and between them cover thousands of square miles of ocean on routine patrols. Manned by some of the most experienced aircrews in the Royal New Zealand Air Force, the Hudsons are performing a task that is unspectacular, boring and tedious in the extreme. At the same time it is of vital importance in keeping the sea and air lanes open to Allied traffic and free from enemy raiders.

It is still dark when the Hudson faces down the runway. The aircraft takes off eastward, where first' light is beginning to show, making the steel matting on the runway a faintly shining path in the surrounding gloom. She lifts easily, turns over sleepingcamps, completes her circuit and is away.

The slim shapes that are half seen as they speed northward are Corsairs or Warhawks, off to keep an early appointment with the Mikado’s Zeros. Early morning shadows swallow up the fighters, and the Hudson, alone in the sky, heads out to sea.

Lights Turned Off Flying always below cloud, the

bomber seems to be trying to race the sun, but the light floods the sky from dead astern, and the incredible blue of the sea shows clearly when the cabin lights have been turned off. Trimming his ship to fly “hands off,” the captain “lets George do it.” He engages the automatic pilot, and at a steady cruising speed the monoplane begins her six-or more hours of routine.

In his microscopic compartment, the

wireless operator is gazing more or less blankly into space. A tiny lamp over his instruments shows his collection of dials and switches, and incidentally. illuminates the photograph of a pretty girl. To the rest of the crew, the piping and squeaking that comes through the earphones are a meaningless jumble of noises, but to the operator they are the shrill voices of radios, and every so often he picks out of the air a message for the aircraft. and jots it down. Orders to test guns fire given hv the captain, and the Hudson's armament speaks up. Streams of tracers pour from' guns mounted to cover the whole aircraft, and little splashes in the sea show where the bullets have fallen. Few Jap. Planes Sighted Only occasionally is the moncroiiy broken. Sometimes a Japanese aircraft is sighted, on a similar mission, looking for shipping. Usually it makes off, though once a float-plane • ra-1 conclusions with a Hudson, and was neatly shot down by the front gunner. Even more rarely a submarine is seen. On those occasions the patrolling Hudson has swept down upon an enemy “pig-boat,” bomb-doors have swung open, and depth-charges hurtled down to take revenge for Allied ships sunk. Wreckage may be seen floating on the water, pitiful scraps of some unknown ship, and 3 once —it happened only recently—the watchful eyes of the tur-

ret gunner saw a tiny life-raft, and an American pilot was saved to fly again.

But usually it is dull, deadly dull

and uneventful. On the homeward leg, further to the north, the crew can see the tall mountains of New Georgia and Kolombangara, and the black shape of Murray Island, famed in South Sea stories for its ferocious natives. On the north-western tip of the island, the crew look down upon the wreckage of Japanese ships. Grim relics of the great air and sea battle of last December, they dot the reef. Held fast by coral teeth, they lie where they were driven ashore, being slowly battered to pieces by waves. Hundreds of Japanese landing barges are scattered along the shore, and even as the Hudson comes in to land, its crew can see the devastated areas swept by gunfire earlier this year, and only now being covered again by fresh green growth.