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WE WERE MISSING MEN
By Lieut. (J. G.) Edward M. Peck, U. S. N. R. as told to Will Oursler TRUE's Pacific Correspondent

The Japs got us in their searchlights — That was when they hit us with the anti-aircraft.

The others with me were Jesse Scott, Radio man 3rd class, and Stanley Tefft, Ordnance man 2nd. We'd left our base on a hunt for enemy shipping. Our assignment was to dive low over the spot where the shipping was supposed to be and drop flares to light up the show.

We were actually in our dive when the anti-aircraft hit us at about 5,000 feet. I can't say we weren't scared. But we''d been shot up once before by a Zero so we were getting used to trouble.

The Jap A. A. hit the engine and fire started. I headed out to sea, out of the A. A. and the searchlights. The fire wasn't too bad and we got it out. But we'd take a beating. The oil lines were gone and I knew we couldn't make it back. It was only a matter of minutes before the engine would quit.

I called the other two men and told them to prepare for a water landing. Our plane wasn't built to land on water but there was no choice. The only fields near us were held by the Japs.

The men kept their heads — you have to at a time like that. After a little while the motor spluttered and we sat the ship down. I didn't put down the wheels and we landed like a boat. It wasn't very difficult. But the plane wasn't built to stay afloat and I knew she'd sink about a minute after we landed.

That was just time enough for us to get out the life raft, our emergency rations and other supplies we needed. It was dark as hell when we climbed into that raft.

There was a Jap island base near us. Our best chance, we figured was to hide out on that island because that was as close as we could get to ouir own forces. Later we might try to reach an American base.

We paddled as hard as we could. It was a tiring business. We didn't talk a great deal at first. When we did it was about our girls and our families. We talked about what it would mean if we weren't found. Dawn came and we still had a long way to go.

A good part of the time we prayed. You get to praying pretty quick when you're alone on the water.

But ther wind was blowing in the wrong direction — blowing so hard we were making no progress at all. We paddled for a day and a half and then realized it was just no go.

Some distance away there were other islands, also held by the Japs. But the way it looked to us we had no choice. We were going to be pushed to those islands anyway.

We had a sail on the raft and hoisted it. We sailed all the next day toward the Jap islands. We cut down our rations to next to nothing.

The wind was carrying our raft a little south of the island where we had figured to land so we took in the sail and paddled. We had no way of knowing how many Japs were there or where they had their camp, but it was this island or none at all.

There were coral reefs around the island and we landed on a coral beach, where we spotted a cave at the base of a thirty-foot cliff. We figured the cave would be a good place to hide because it would keep us out of sight of any Japs who might be close by.

We saw smoke in the distance as we came up to the cave qand hoped it was from a native village. That afternoon, after hiding our raft in the cave, we started out on foot toward the smoke. We were taking a chance but in a spot like that y ou have to take chances.

We had gone a short distance through pretty thick jungle when we ran into a group of natives. Actually, I ran into them. The others in our group kept out of sight. The natives spoke only a few words of English and one of them asked me, "Man from West?"

I said, "I'm American. Jap bad. No like Jap."

They must have misunderstood, I found out later that a Jap pilot had been forced down in the same spot a few days previous to our landing. The natives had taken him to a Jap camp.

They apparently reached the conclusion I too was a Jap. They ran off into the bush. I found out soon that they were heading over to inform the Japs of my arrival.

We ran into other natives a little later and convinced them we were Americans. They were friendly and anxious to be helpful, once they realized who we were. But the situation was difficult by then because the other natives had told the Japs about our arrival and we learned that the Nip commander was sending out a searching party.

We hid in the bush while Tefft returned to the beach to pick up his hatchet. The Jap searching party showed up before we could give Tefft any warning. They had cut through to the beach so they were between him and us and there was no way for us to reach him. There was nothing we could do but duck back through the jungle to our cave.

Tefft told us later that he spotted the Japs in time and hit into the jungle. The Jap group, led by the natives, came within twenty feet of him. He crouched in the bush, holding his breath. One of the natives glanced his way and saw him. The native turned without expression, mumbled a few words and took the Japs off in an opposite direction.

The Japs kept a sentry there, who for hours patrolled only a few yards from Tefft. He could do nothing except lie motionless.

There was one chance. The tide was coming in. If it came in far enough, Tefft could dive under the water — under cover of night — and swim for it. He lay there within a few steps of escape. At last the water was so close he took the gamble.

Maybe the Jap sentry heard the splash but Tefft kept under water until he was far enough away to be safe. He swam for a good distance until he was sure he was well away. Then he came to shore and made his way along the beach back to our cave

The next morning. Scott went out to explore the island looking for natives. Japs were still searching for "an American." They almost spotted Scott and he had to hide for three hours in the bush. When he got back to camp, we decided it was too dangerous to stay on the island.

It hadn't been too bad in the cave. We had been living on short rations and coconuts, and we had located another cave near by where there were pools of fresh water. The water seeped down through the coral and it was good to drink. We didn't even have to boil it.

But the Japs were looking for us and we had to get out, so we inflated the boat again. The waves were high and dangerous — it was a miracle we ever managed to get off the beach. Once the waves swept Tefft off his feet. For a minute we thought he was going to be smashed on the coral.

But we did get out. We paddled through rough water to another island near by. There were Japs on it but they weren't near where we landed. We hid that night in a cave — we were getting used to living in caves along about then. We cut our rations to one-ninth of normal. In the morning we went out hunting coconuts and managed to find a few.

We spent another night in the darkness of the cave. The next day, the Japs sent out a patrol. They were hunting one man, still not realizing there were three of us. We learned this from natives on this island who found us. Later that afternoon we located a path through the jungle that led us to a native village. There we learned that the Japs were staying in a village at the other end of the island.

The natives were glad to see us. Several of them spoke English. They hid us in another cave and gave us food, taro roots which are like yams, sugar cane, bananas and drinking coconuts — the green ones which have the sweetest milk.

For the next few days, the Japs kept up the hunt. It was a kind of game. The natives were acting as Jap guides. They would come and get us and move us to one part of the jungle and then guide the Japs through the part we had just vacated. Then when the Japs got near our new hiding place the natives would come and warn us and move us back to where we'd been before.

It was clever because in that way the Japs combed every foot of the island and never got a trace of us. They finally gave up the search and went back to their base.

The natives took us to their village and gave us a hut to which we slept on beds made of frames and slats. They fed us a diet mostly of yams and this allowed us to save our jungle rations for emergency.

The Natives were most hospitable, gave us everything we needed. They even brought us a Jap razor but we didn't shave since it was better to grow beards which keep mosquitos off at least part of your face.

The Native women didn't stay in the village but they would come there and bring us delicacies sometimes, such as cans of Jap milk and bars of Japanese soap.

We were very careful with the natives. We didn't talk too much to them because we didn't want to overdo anything or make too much of a fuss. We were extra careful about the women, even about how we looked at them. We knew how much the natives feared and hated the Japs. We knew that most of their hatred came from the way the Japs had mistreated the native women.

One fellow out here in the South Pacific is from my home town. His name is Bill Sneed and he flies one of the night patrols. I was hoping maybe he would find us. I kept thinking of him. I guess, because we grew up together.

We all had a feeling we would be rescued some day, but we guessed it would be a long time. We figured it would be a year before our forces got anywhere close to where we were.

Since we had been on the island for several weeks, we knew that word must have been sent to our parents listing us among the missing.

Although we didn't know it then and didn't find it out until weeks later, my family finally wrote to Bill Sneed, asking what had happened to me and the others, if there was any chance that we still might be found.

One day, more than a month after our arrival, the natives came into the hut all excited. They told us that white soldiers had landed on the island.

It sounded too good to believe. It sounded as if our forces were making an invasion and if that were the deal, we were rescued at last.

But the natives, unfortunately, were a little off in their report. It wasn't any invasion. It was only one more American Flyer. The natives brought him to us, bearded and tired and needing food. He was plenty glad to see us.

He was Lieut. Ben H. King from Oklahoma City. He told us he'd been flying a P-38 alone. Two Zeros attacked him and shot him down in the same general locality where we'd gone down. He'd been on his raft for six days, had gone through hell out there. The winds drove him finally to the island the same way they had us.

We welcomed him into our "club." He brought good news with him. Our forces were on the offensive. That meant our chances of rescue were that much higher.

The next day we had another visit from the natives. They said more Americans had arrived. We asked them how many and they said three. We figured that was another three man crew from a TBF like our own.

An hour or so later, the natives brought them in. They were in tough shape and when we got their story we found they had been through plenty of trouble. The three were Ensign Joe D. Mitchell of Davidson, Oklahoma, Aviation Ordnance man 1st Class, Chauncy Estep, of Tridelphia, West Virginia and Dale Vere Dahl, Aviation Radio Man 3rd , of Watertown, South Dakota.

Mitchell, a big, blond, cool-headed fellow, told us the story. He was the pilot of the TBF. They'd gone on a pretty big strike. Just as they got over the target one of their landing wheels dropped down. It was a freak accident. When the wheel came down it sent them into a bad skid and slowed them up. But they were already in their dive. Mitchell kept the plane on course and dropped his bombs on the target. By that time the other planes were on their way home.

Mitchell started after them trying to catch up, but the plane's speed had been cut. Then there was an explosion underneath the plane — they had been hit by a 20-millimeter shell from a Zero.

They kept on flying, trying to overtake the other American planes. Bullets from the Jap machine gun were spraying them. Mitchell was trying to find out where the Zero was. He twisted his head finally and saw the Jap was right on his tail.

The Jap was doing what is known as "leading." He would start firing at the tip of the wing of the TBF and slowly bring the fire along the wing toward the heart of the plane.

Mitchell knew what to do about that. He watched the bullets as they raced along until they got about half way across the wing. The he would side slip about a hundred yards. That threw the Jap off. The Jap would methodically pull over in position on the tail and try the same stunt over. Mitchell would wait until the right instant and side slip again.

All the time he was trying to catch up with the other planes. But he saw it was impossible. The plane was losing speed second by second. Even so, they managed to put machine gun bullets into the Zero and set his engine on fire. When last seen the Jap was smoking badly and probably did not make it back to his base.

Mitch knew they couldn't keep the plane up much longer. The ship was full of holes. All the instruments were shot up. He himself had been nipped in the heel and his foot kept jumping. The other two crew members also had slight wounds.

There was nothing to do but sit down in the water. He had never made a water landing before and this was in a plane that wasn't supposed to land on water and besides it had one wheel hanging down.

But he made the landing all right, without much trouble, he told us. He said they all felt much better when they finally climbed into the life raft.

From then on they had about the same deal we had. Trying to paddle and finally being blown into the island where we were. So now we were seven living there in the hut in the jungle.

Air activity was increasing. Day and night, planes were flying over us. Some of them were Japs. Others were scouts but they were always too high to spot us.

The longer we stayed on the island, the more we realized that rescue wasn't headed our way. One day — after we had been on the island more than two months --- we held a meeting and decided to try to reach an American Base. We knew from Lieutenant King our troops had established a new one not far off.

We set out in our raft with plenty of supplies, but the sea was rough. Soon our arms ached so we could hardly keep paddling. We weren't getting anywhere and finally we had to turn back.

Some of us were still anxious to try getting off. We didn't feel like staying there and rotting and waiting for the Japs to come and kill us. That could happen and we had to take it into consideration.

Four of us decided to have a final attempt at it. The other three said they felt safer with the natives. We told them we would send up a rescue party to pick them up if we got back alive.

Out group included Mitchell, Ben King, Tefft and myself. We didn't talk at all. Most of the time we were paddling, and we slept only in catnaps.

Your arms and legs get stiff and wet and you ache, but you have to keep your mind to it. Otherwise you'd go crazy.

We had a lamp with us which we had made out of a ration can, with a wick of felt taken form some parachute equipment and kerosene we got from the natives. We didn't have matches but Mitch did have a lighter and the thing actually worked.

We had started out on the twelfth of September, and had paddled almost constantly for nearly a hundred hours.

Then, on the night of the sixteenth, around midnight, we heard a plane. At first it was only a murmur in the distance, but it kept getting louder and pretty soon we could make out the motor. Nobody said anything until we were sure. We just sat there and listened. Then on of the fellows said, "That's one of ours. A PBY. Probably on night patrol."

It was coming closer. I suggested that we light the lamp and the others agreed. We got out the lamp and Mitch's lighter and soon had a flame that lit us up like a torch.

All the time the sound of the PBY engines got nearer and nearer. We knew they had spotted the light. They were coming down low, they were overhead, circling around us. We knew that with the bright light they would recognize the raft as American. The roar of those motors was sweet music.

They circled around close, and then pulled away and came in for a landing on the water.

When they got us in the plane we were all so happy we couldn't make sense. We were all talking at once and not saying anything coherent. We felt like hugging those fellows in the plane.

It was a curious coincidence, too. That plane was one of Bill Sneed's squadron. Bill almost went on that flight — changed his mind at the last minute. He did a dance when that PBY landed us back on the field.

We turned in our reports and, a short time later, the other three men on the island were rescued and brought back.

It was a great day for us, after those months of loneliness, of not knowing what would happen. But I guess it meant most to our families back home. They hadn't known whether we were alive or dead, had no idea what had happened. All they had were their hopes and their prayers.

Bill Sneed had the answer, when we talked about it. "Hell" he said, "on things like that, you just got to go on believing."

Finished of the story by Will Oursler.

It was a happy and joyous reunion that we all had back on Guadalcanal and some of the following pictures will indicate some of the activities of that day.

As we reflect on the above episodes, the writer would like to emphasize two thoughts.

1. We stand again at a political cross-road. There are people in the United States of America who say we should offer nothing but the Olive Branch for peace. Let us all stand tall and walk straight and seek world peace from strength. From a proud strength of true freedom, "What is peace if we do not have freedom?" 2. The writer realizes his weaknesses and frailties. His sins of omission as well as commission and even though I am unable to go and teach and preach in the "Uttermost" parts of the world, he is contributing constantly, so as the ones who have the call, the availability, and ability can go and teach and preach. Therefore, I challenge each of you to move, in every possible way, through every possible source available to you to carry out the two above written statements!

Finished and compiled March, 1985

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