The Top 40

TR6
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Our mission was accomplished and the squadron was returning to the carrier USS Forrestal when the Japanese Zero fighter plane blew the left wing off of my TR6 light bomber.

Instantly the airplane rotated violently to the right. My head slammed against the left side of the cockpit, stunning me slightly.

I recovered, scanned the gauges and knew the end was here. The plane was spiraling down in a hard clockwise manner, no time to think. I struggled against the awesome G force and reached under the seat to pull the red handle.

There was a loud explosion and a rush of wind, the cockpit canopy was instantly gone. In a second I was 200 feet above the doomed plane, looking down at it as my chute deployed.

The TR6 contined to spiral down to the Pacific surface like a broken ballet dancer. It crashed, paused for a moment on the surface, then dove to the bottom with my wifes picture taped to the dashboard.

I was only 1200 feet about the water so the ride down was brief. I hit the ocean hard and my left leg snapped in the impact. The pain was excruciating, my whole left side was throbbing and the water was freezing cold. It was 8:42 AM, November 7th, 1942.

I gathered my wits about me and surveyed the sky.
The Zeros and my fellow Tr6s were visible but distant. Reaching behind me for the strap that deployed the life raft my hand became entangled in the webbing, I struggled to free it.

At that moment I spotted the Zero coming towards me. It was about a mile away and coming in at 50 feet above the water line.

Oh shit. I snatched my hand free.

The Zero was closer. Suddenly water started spraying up from the surface three hundred feet away, the Zero had a bead on me. His six fifty caliber machine guns were strafing the surface, walking a slow-motion death toward me.

I froze.
The upside down stalagtites walked ever closer.

As the May West kept my head above the cold Pacific waves I pulled the government issue Smith and Wesson .38 revolver from my hip and took aim at the Zero. I only had one chance at this, so I took a deep breath and steeled my nerves. I closed my gloved finger over the trigger, my eye on the Zero cockpit, and squeezed.

There was a loud report and a violent recoil.
The 175 grain missle sped towards its target.

The cockpit glass on the Zero spiderwebbed and the pilots head snapped backwards as the lead projectile hit him one half inch above his right eye. The dash was sprayed red as the bullet continued through the back of the seat and into the fuel tank beyond.

Triple rows of fifty caliber spray flanked me as I watched the plane fly overhead, almost close enough to touch.

As the bullet hit the fuel tank there was a slow shudder to the plane as 200 gallons of aircraft fuel met of white hot lead.

In slow motion the Zero heaved, then exploded into a million tiny pieces, scattering over the surface of the icy Pacific Ocean.

I wondered if the Zero pilot had his wifes picture on the dashboard.

Ghost - Is this fiction? I was a teenager during WW2 and obsessed with learning all I could about airplanes and the American air forces. When old enough I became a career USAF pilot, and though old now, my interest in aviation is still strong. I have to say I've never heard of a TR6 aircraft, nor of any U.S. aircraft equipped with an ejection system until well after WW2. Also use of the S&W .38 is worrisome. I'd always understood the WW2 pilot's GI weapon was a Colt .45, and they didn't start issuing .38 revolvers until well after WW2. Just wondering.

Yeah, I wrote that, about 10 years ago. If I did a full length version I'd hire some people like you to make sure I did it right.

Here's another and the subject matter is something I'm an expert at:

"Coral Pointe "

The Elsinore 250 kicked up a rooster tail of sand and pine needles as it wound its way through the random patches of Palmetto bushes and Pine trees
in the desolate extremes of northwest Coral Pointe, its riders' identity concealed by a helmet and shield.

In early June the sand is especially loose as the rainy season ended late last year and weeks of 90 degree weather have absorbed all the moisture from the ground.

Water restrictions have been applied by the County Commissioners and the sap filled Pine trees threaten to mutate into torches.

The rider stops briefly and consults the digital
global positioning system in his jacket pocket. He presses a button, pauses, then presses it again, revealing he is about one mile due west of his
destination.

Placing the GPS in his pocket he kicks the shifter, twists the throttle and takes off, steering easterly through the soft sugar sand.

Two minutes later the rider spots the large Eagle nest about 200 yards ahead, some 60 feet in the air, supported by the strong limbs of a forty year old slash pine tree. The nest contains a female bald eagle and three, month-old nestlings.

Leaning the still running Honda against a nearby tree the rider unstraps a duffle bag, from the rear of the seat, containing 8 rolls of paper towels and 3 quarts of Acetone. He places the rolls around the base of the old pine and saturates them with the Acetone.

Walking to his bike he lights a Marlboro and inhales deeply, surveying the terrain around him. Believing the coast is clear the rider casually flips the lit cigarette toward the base of the tree. With a loud "whumpf" the homemade incendiaries ignite.

Climbing onto the Elsinore the rider revs the engine, dumps the clutch and powers away from the flames scaling the old pine.

A male bald eagle circles anxiously overhead as black smoke races skyward along the trunk of the burning tree. His impassioned cries of grief for the termination of his legacy are drowned out by the roar of the bike.

The rider feels comfort in the crisp one hundred dollar bill in his breast pocket and the fact that his boss will now be able to build homes on the land that was formerly restricted from new construction due to the presence of the eagles.

The journey back to his pickup truck some 5 miles away gives the rider the chance to consider his appointment with Ryan Palmer this afternoon and the extra "side money" their relationship provides him.

In order to save both weight and raw material, the Zeros were dangerously underarmored, particularly fuel tanks. A .45 round piercing a fuel tank sending it up in flames is not that far fetched.

@Doug,

While the article describes the fighters as Zeroes, given that the incident occurred over Burma (a theater mostly the responsibility of the Japanese army), I'd guess that the fighters were Oscars or even Nates. Regardless, all Japanese aircraft were indeed under-armored for the sake of maneuverability and range. Per the story, though, Baggett pegged the pilot in the head, which could have happened in nearly any aircraft under the already extraordinarily unlikely circumstances.

Aircraft losses in WWII due to ground fire from small arms were rare, but I've heard of a few, typically involving masses of riflemen with nowhere to take cover and wanting to strike back at the tormenting flyboys. Dumb luck happens.

Ghostsniper:

The Zero was equipped with two 7.7mm machine guns (in the nose above the engine) and two 20mm cannon, one in each wing. Allied fighters carried .50cal machine guns. It's possible a Navy pilot might have carried a .38 revolver, but the bullet would weigh 158 grains, not 175. Last, and most importantly, no matter what Hollywood has told you, a lead bullet will NOT ignite a fuel tank and cause an explosion - it takes tracer or incendiary rounds to do that.

I presumed the ripping of the steel fuel tank would create the sparks to cause the ignition of the fuel.

Ghost - I'll take your word for it on the Elsinore 250 yarn, which I presume is a motorcycle. In any case, both tales are a good quick read, technologically accurate or not.

The Elsinore was a legendary bike...in my youth (I'm 55+) Not sure when the pocket GPS came into existence, but I am quite sure all the hair was gray when it happened.

Possibility #2 The torch was a vintage motocross enthusiast and choose to take the Elsinore out instead of the Bultaco Pursang or the Husky eight speed.

Gasoline vapor is what actually causes the catastrophic explosions that you sometimes see in the WW2 gun camera films. And yes, tracer or incendiary bullets--or exploding cannon shells--were needed. The Japanese fighters were particularly vulnerable to enemy fire. As Umbriel noted, Japanese planes lacked armor, but they also lacked self-sealing fuel tanks. These were essentially rubber bladders in the wings. They expanded and contracted according to how full they were, thus preventing the buildup of fuel vapors. The rubber also closed behind an entering bullet, preventing most leakage. The disadvantage is that self-sealing tanks are heavy. Japanese aircraft designers tried to keep their planes as light as possible to maximize speed, range, rate of climb, and maneuverability. The trade off for having a long-range plane with wonderful handling traits was a horrifying lack of protection for the pilot.

US fighters often had six .50 cal machine guns, but not always. That was the standard armament for the F6F Hellcat, F4U Corsair, and P-51 Mustang. But the earlier F4F Wildcat had four .50s, the P-47 Thunderbolt had eight, while the P-38 Lightning had four .50s plus a 20mm cannon. Any one of these combos would quickly tear a Japanese plane to shreds.

@Walt: I likes me some Lightning, but it seems like it had quite a bit of stuff blocking the view.

@Will: I wrote that about 10 years ago so the bike was definitely vintage.

That little story was prompted by a series of experiences I was well, experiencing at the time as an architectural designer in southwest Florida.

The largest home builder in Florida history was laying down some 100 new houses per week, and a multi-million dollar residential community on an island I was designing was held up by an "abandoned" Bald Eagle nest.

The discovery of this nest by the DNR halted the progress on the development, costing me a lot of coin in design fees, and the largest builder was smearing these embarrassing "renter" homes all around the dream home we had recently built for ourselves in a sparsely populated part of the county.

Basically, the story was a way for me to vent about the situation we found ourselves in shortly before we pulled up stakes and moved to the distant woods, completely disgusted with all things society.

"It's not the country I can't stand, it's the goddamn people that live there!"

Ghost, the Lightning actually had excellent forward visibility, since it was the only plane of the ones I listed where the pilot didn't have to look through the propeller arc. While it did have a lot of stuff to the sides (engine nacelles, tail booms, etc.), I'd imagine its high-mounted bubble canopy helped there as well.

Hеy just wanted to give you a quick heads up.
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