SUMMER, 1943
PACIFIC THEATRE
WORLD WAR II
The corsairs came in low and fast over the island chain in the South China Sea. If all went well, the pictures they were taking would provide proof for the stories that were beginning to circulate of cruel and inhumane treatment of Allied Prisoners of War. So, who were they? They were two teams of two United States Army Air Force pilots sent in with limited cover. Two of the three team members had been taught by the pilot flying lead, Colonel Thomas "Shadow" Powell, and he had hand-picked them personally for the detail. Powell knew that they would provide support and interference if Tojo showed up. The fourth pilot, Powell's wingman, however, was green as they come. He was a last minute replacement for the regular flyer that had suddenly gotten sick.
"V1 to V2, I've got one more flyover, need to swing low over something I think I saw," the team leader instructed.
"Roger that, V1. We've got the rookie," V2 leader, Captain Burnett "Burnsey" Jones replied.
The rookie, Second Lieutenant Ben Bonham, answered, "I can watch myself, thank you."
"It'd be a whole hell of a lot better if you watched your flight commander's six," First Lieutenant Noel Smith corrected.
Shadow laughed off-mike but when he keyed in, he was deadly serious, "Enough, guys. Need you to be alert. It's a little too calm for my money." He headed back down to the island to make his final pass and the Zeros appeared as if he'd shaken a hornets' nest.
The two fighters, identified as V2, began to provide cover fire; attempting to draw the enemy away from the Shadow's mission. Powell quickly radioed his wingman, "Get the hell out, Bonham."
"Shadow…" the rookie started only to be cut off.
"Let's go, Ben," Burnsey radioed. "That was an order."
Powell flew evasively, returning fire at the Japanese fighters. Around him, the other three pilots were also fighting for their lives; trying to find an opening to get away. Shadow heard the weapons discharge and then felt the drag against his plane.
"V2, I'm done. Get to base," Thomas commanded.
Ben tried to follow Powell down but the situation was too hot. He could only watch as the Colonel wrestled his plane to as palatable a landing as the ocean could give.
The Zeros broke off their pursuit; their goal of running off the American fighters accomplished. Powell secured the camera and film in his flight suit. He had worked too hard to get the pictures to lose them. Shadow popped the hatch of the plane and hit the ejector, separating him from his ride.
He watched below him as the plane hit hard and black smoke billowed up. The Colonel was pretty sure that his young wingman would not be able to see him through the haze. Powell braced for the impact of hitting the water but there was nothing, really, he could do but land hard. He felt the torque on his knee as the water pulled him one way and the parachute another and he cried out in pain. He inflated his Mae West life preserver and began to swim against the tide. His destination – the island he could see in the distance – the very same one he had flown over to photograph.