Doolittle's Raid
Eglin AFB, Florida, March 5, 1942
It was another warm sunny day at Eglin AFB, as Boeing Stearman trainer planes buzzed lazily through the sky. A young 19-year-old girl was looking out the window from inside her office, as the sun shone warmly on her face. Dressed in a brown jacket and skirt with a lilac undershirt and leggings, her wavy brown hair bounced lightly as the reverberation of a B-25 medium bomber shook the field. She adjusted her glasses, as her ocean blue eyes turned back to look at General Henry 'Hap' Arnold.
"Do you think they'll be ready, sir?" She asked worriedly.
Hap swiveled his office chair to face her. "At the present time I couldn't say, Lt. Col Doolittle. The B-25 normally required 3,000 feet to take off, but your pilots need to be airborne in 500 for this mission. Navy Lt. Henry Miller will do his best to teach them, but we're going to need a miracle to pull this off." He exhaled deeply. "You'd best get going. The planes are ready, and you need to brief our aviators."
"Will do, General." Jamie saluted, and exited the room.
In the hangar, several men and a few girls were arranged in a perfect echelon at the hangar entrance. Some were tall, some were short, and some had bigger ears than the pilot beside them. The ones who stood out were the two girls: 1st Lt. Dot Hallmark and 1st Lt. Rachel Cole. Hallmark was a bubbly, short girl from Texas who had short and curly brown hair, jade green eyes, and a plethora of mischievous freckles which seemed to dance across her cheeks.
By contrast, Cole hailed from Dayton Ohio, and sported medium length, luscious black hair, which danced in the wind. She had solemn grey-blue eyes, which scanned Doolittle cautiously. Despite knowing Jamie for a few years now, Rachel had never seen such a stern look on the Lt. Col's face, and that made her nervous.
Soon, Jamie broke the silence. "The mission you have volunteered for is extremely dangerous. Look at the pilot next to you – it's a good bet that over the next few weeks, you or them, will be dead. Everyone brave enough to accept this… Step forward."
Without even flinching, 1st Lt Hallmark and 1st Lt Cole stepped forward with the men. A determined smirk crept along Jamie's face, as the room's morale surged. Without another word, Jamie motioned for them to follow, as she walked out to the modified B-25 bomber on the tarmac, which had been practically re-engineered to reduce the weight.
"This is the plane you will be flying – a fine machine called the B-25 Mitchell. Twin engine, land-based bomber. It's been modified to reduce the weight as much as possible: all armor except for the blast plates near the dorsal gunner have been removed. The crawl space over the bomb bay has been filled in with a neoprene bladder for extra fuel. Normally, with a full load this plane requires 3,000 feet to take off. You will learn to do it in 500 feet, because after 500 feet you will be in the ocean, and you will be one dead pilot." Jamie declared coldly. "There is a white taped off section of the runway which measures 500ft: this is your goal. Let's get started!"
The training would continue for almost six weeks, and the results were not easily produced. Even with Lt. Miller's supervision and guidance, the pilots were still unfamiliar with the lumbering bomber, and had difficulty getting it off the ground at all, let alone 500ft. Jamie knew something had to be done, or they would have to scrub the mission. On the fourth week in to the training, Jamie personally attended a training session, and watched in disbelief as the planes continued missing the target by several hundred feet. Before the next crew could get their turn, Jamie interrupted the training session.
"Alright boys, I know you probably think this is impossible. You probably think we're asking for a miracle here, but I promise you this – it can be done. I will demonstrate, and if I go over the 500-foot mark, I'll buy every one of you a round of beer tonight." Jamie proclaimed.
Several eyebrows were raised, as Jamie climbed into the cockpit, and motioned for Dot and Rachel to follow her. As they went up the ladder, Dot tugged on Rachel's sleeve.
"Even the best pilots gathered for this mission couldn't make that takeoff. What chance do we have?" She asked worriedly.
"Don't doubt Doolittle. She was the test pilot who concocted this mission, and she never designs a mission she hasn't completed herself in some form. You should've seen her back at McCook field, flying the DC-3." Rachel smiled.
Dot's eyes grew wide as saucers, as she climbed up the ladder and into the bomber. Jamie strapped into the pilot seat, Rachel in the copilot seat, and Dot hopped into a makeshift jumpseat behind them. Doolittle set the parking brakes, set flaps full, and clamped her hand around the throttle lever.
"Tell me when, Rachel." Jamie commanded, pushing up the throttle.
Cole watched the RPM gauges climbing higher and higher, and Dot glanced anxiously as the engines strained with all their might.
"Not yet… Just a little more…!" Rachel held her hand up.
The RPM gauge approached the red zone, just as Rachel pointed forward.
"GO!"
Jamie released the brake, and the lumbering bomber lurched forward. Dot clutched the back of Doolittle and Cole's seats, as the plane gained speed at an exponential rate. The confident grins of the sidelined pilots turned into awe as the plane approached the 500-foot mark. Then, it happened. Doolittle and Rachel pulled back on the steering column with all their might, as Dot braced herself in the cockpit's metal frame. The B-25's nose lifted into the air, mere inches from crossing the mark, and the plane floated almost vertically into the sky. The small crowd exploded with excitement, as Jamie brought the bomber around and into the traffic pattern.
Rachel looked back at Dot, whose knuckles were white from gripping the metal frame. Then she looked at Jamie, whose forehead was covered in sweat as she breathed raggedly. Then she looked at her own knees, which were knocking like a Newton's cradle.
"Holy crap…" Rachel exhaled.
"Can't believe we got on the first try…" Jamie chuckled.
"Can we do that again?" Dot asked, starry-eyed.
Jamie laughed. "I'm sure we'll be much better off in our bomber units."
"So then, why fly an actual plane at all?" Dot inquired.
"Call it the Doolittle effect." Rachel lightly jabbed Jamie in the shoulder. "A show of inspiration, if you will. Why, Jamie used to be a racing pilot back in the day, and she helped develop the art of instrument flying as well. So, you could say she knows a thing or two." Rachel winked.
"Squadrons perform better when they can believe in their leader, and they probably don't want to be outdone by a girl pilot, either. It might actually be easier launching from the carrier, considering that we'll be moving into the wind plus the carrier's propulsion speed of 20-25 knots." Jamie noted, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"No mission involving you is ever easy." Rachel laughed.
"I won't deny that." Jamie admitted, as she landed the bomber.
Even after Doolittle's flight of inspiration, the group would continue to train rigorously for the next several weeks. When the first week of April arrived, the Raiders flew their B-25's to Alameda Naval Air Station in the San Francisco Bay, to be loaded onto CV-8 Hornet. Despite the long flight, two of the B-25 captains were still game for a challenge, as they raced each other under the Golden Gate Bridge before heading to the airstrip. After landing, a mighty harbor crane lifted the B-25's, one by one, and set them down onto the deck of the Hornet. Each one was carefully arranged and tied down to the deck, as the engine covers were laid in place.
The temporary 'Task Force 16.2' was comprised of the Yorktown class carrier CV-8 Hornet, Brooklyn class cruiser Nashville and New Orleans class cruiser Vincennes, flanked by destroyers Gwin, Meredith, Grayson, and Monssen under the command of Captain Mark Mitchser. Just after exiting the bay, Navy blimp L-8 caught up with them to drop off the final supply shipment, including 2 cases of replacement navigator windows. The force would set sail into the Pacific, and link up with 'Task Force 16.1,' which consisted of the Yorktown class carrier CV-6 Enterprise – which was carrying fighter escorts, the Northampton class cruiser Northampton, the Pensacola class cruiser Salt Lake City, the Cimarron class oiler Sabine, and the destroyers Balch, Benham, Ellet, and Fanning. They would meet each other at sea on April 12th and form Task Force 16, and from there they would continue westward. Approximately 800 miles from the Fuso mainland, the warships would be refueled by USS Sabine, which would then turn back under destroyer escort and return to Pearl. From there, Task Force 16 would then turn south and continue another 400 miles towards their target.
Once they were in open water, Jamie took all the pilots below deck into the Hornet's hangar briefing room.
"For the benefit of those of you who don't already know, or who have been guessing, we are headed for the South Seas Island – a small artificial island created by the Neuroi, which was formed from part of their original meteor that crashed into the Pacific Ocean. This is the center of their heinous operations in the Pacific, and the origin from where they struck Pearl. The Imperial Fuso Naval Air Force had attempted to destroy it, but they were met with devastating losses to their air forces – they were lucky to even return to their carriers, let alone get home. At Pearl, the Neuroi hit us with a sledgehammer – and this attack will be but a pinprick to them. But it will prick them right in the heart and show them what happens when you mess with Liberion." Jamie was interrupted, as the Raiders erupted with cheers – their morale soaring to new heights. She waited a few seconds for them to subside.
"Unfortunately, while you may be able to take off from this carrier, you will not return to it." Jamie said coldly. "Once the last bomber leaves the deck, the Task Force is heading back to Pearl, and will not be here if you return. That is why, once the bombing run is complete, you will continue north to Fuso and regroup with friendly forces there. Whether land or crash land, you will transmit your distress beacon only on the encrypted USAAF frequency, so that the search and rescue team can find you. One final word of warning, anyone who still wants to bail out – this is your final call."
Jamie waited, but nobody faltered or ran for the door. She smiled proudly.
"You're all a fine band of pilots. I'm proud to be flying with you. Dismissed!"
On the trip to the South Seas Island, the crews meticulously ran maintenance checks on their aircraft, inspecting every nook and cranny to ensure their plane could make it to the target. The crews had been told that any plane which could not be repaired must be pushed overboard, but the cunning of the Raiders prevented such a thing. The few planes which did have mechanical faults were lifted up on tripod mountings above the carrier deck, as work continued on the bombers. They had to be extremely careful not to drop any bolts overboard, as they continued working on the bombers.
On the evening of April 17th, Rachel, Dot, and Jamie stood on the deck of USS Hornet, overlooking a starboard 5-inch gun turret.
"You know, you don't have go through with this. I know you girls have loved ones back home, and you're more than welcome to bail. I can bomb the target myself." Jamie admitted.
"We're not bailing on you." Rachel said. "Yes, I have family back in Dayton, but in this moment, you're the most important family I have – and I'm going to protect you."
"Likewise. Besides, who'd pass up a chance to drop the first bomb on the Neuroi home base?" Dot smirked.
"Girls… you're some of the best pilots I know. I'm proud to be flying with you. I just wish that I were as brave as you… The truth is, I'm scared." Jamie said, tears coming to her eyes. "'Hap' didn't believe in me – he didn't want me going on this mission. I had to forge his approval to the immediate superior just to be here right now. And even after all that bravado at Eglin, I'm still just as scared as ever…"
Rachel and Dot looked at each other, then moved in to hug Jamie tightly.
"You don't have to do this alone." Rachel answered warmly.
"Whatever happens, we'll be there for you." Dot snuggled.
The girls stayed on deck for what seemed like an eternity, before Jamie's tears subsided and they went below deck. The carrier bobbed up and down in the waves, as the engine turbines hummed loudly.
On the morning of April 18th, just 650 miles from the South Seas Island, the Raiders were still eating breakfast when the alarm sounded for general quarters.
"ENEMY SHIP DETECTED, ARMY PILOTS MAN YOUR PLANES!"
They wasted no time in running for the deck, as Jamie went up to the bridge.
"What happened?!" Jamie demanded.
"Neuroi picket ship. We're trying to sink it before they can report us, but you have to launch now." Mitscher said, as the USS Nashville and USS Salt Lake City opened fire with their 8-inch guns.
"How far out are we?" Jamie pressed.
"650 miles and closing. We're almost double the distance planned." Mitscher answered.
"Sir." The radio officer reported. "Admiral Halsey just sent us this message from the Enterprise: 'LAUNCH PLANES, TO COL DOOLITTLE AND GALLANT COMMAND, GOOD LUCK AND GOD BLESS YOU.'"
Jamie's heart sunk. "We can still throw out the defensive machine guns and save some extra weight, but that'll leave the bombers mostly defenseless…"
"It's now or never, Doolittle." Mitscher said anxiously.
Jamie hesitated for a brief second, and then straightened up and saluted Captain Mitscher. "Godspeed, Captain."
"Godspeed, Doolittle. Give 'em one for Pearl." Mitscher said, returning the salute.
The bomber units were mounted on deck in throwaway support docks, which held them upright until the unit was launched. Though Rachel and Dot were equipped with B-25B units, Jamie was equipped with an experimental XB-25G unit whose only main differences were a 75mm recoilless rifle as her primary armament, and Wright R-2600-13 engines vs the 2600-9's on the B model. The bomber units had also been loaded with 'banana crates' – containers of small incendiary phosphorous bombs used for setting fires, which would illuminate the target for the other planes. The only other distinctions were the callsigns painted on the units: Jamie's had 'Barbie III' written in bright yellow, Rachel's had 'Return to Sender' written in light red, and Dot's had 'Green Hornet' painted in dark green with a cartoon-style hornet buzzing underneath the text.
Doolittle raced down the stairway to the flight deck, where her bomber unit was ready next to Dot and Rachel's. Behind them were the thirteen other B-25B bombers, their crews checking everything for takeoff preparation. Dot was checking out the instruments in Captain York's B-25 when Jamie interrupted.
"Ditch the guns!" Jamie ordered, as USS Nashville landed a final 8-inch round on the enemy picket boat.
"What?" Captain York asked.
"We're 650 miles out, we were supposed to get within 400. Ditch all the guns except for the dorsal turret, and the .30 cal in the nose. Load extra fuel, too." Jamie demanded. "In the meantime, replace the .50's with broomsticks, and we'll see if we can fool the Neuroi fighters."
"Are you out of your mind?!" 2nd Lt. Davenport yelled from the right seat of B-25B 'Ruptured Duck.'
"Ditch the guns, otherwise you won't have enough fuel to make it to Fuso!" Jamie commanded.
Reluctantly, the B-25 crews tossed the Ma Deuces out onto the deck to the maintenance crew and replaced them with hastily painted black broomsticks. Extra fuel cans were handed up to the flight crews, and hastily stowed in the crawl space of the bombers. Once finished, the crews started up their engines, as Hornet turned into the wind. The deck pitched up and down in the waves, as the onboard reporter crew took a few final photos of the Raiders.
Dot, Rachel, and Jamie mounted their bomber units and started up the engines.
"Without guns, they'll be relying on us for cover." Rachel worried.
"I'm sure we can handle anything they throw at us." Dot remarked cheerily.
"Don't bother trying to dogfight, stick close to the bombers and use your shields to cover them. Don't go gallivanting off chasing fighters." Jamie ordered, as she advanced to takeoff position.
"Lt. Col. Jamie Doolittle, callsign 'Barbie III.' All wings check in." Jamie radioed.
"1st Lt. Cole, 'Return to Sender,' standing by."
"1st Lt. Hoover checking in."
"1st Lt. Gray, 'Whiskey Pete,' standing by."
"1st Lt. Holstrom checking in."
"1st Lt. Jones, ready and waiting."
"1st Lt. Hallmark, 'Green Hornet,' good to go!"
"1st Lt. Lawson, 'Ruptured Duck,' all fired up."
"Capt. York, standing by."
"1st Lt. Watson, 'Whirling Dervish,' standing by."
"1st. Lt. Joyce, standing by."
"Capt. Greening, 'Hari Kari-er,' ready to go."
"1st Lt. Bower, 'Fickle Finger of Fate,' we are ready."
"1st Lt. McElroy, 'The Avenger,' ready and steady."
"Maj. Hilger, standing by."
"1st Lt. Smith, 'TNT,' let's smash something!"
"1st Lt. Farrow, 'Bat Out Of Hell,' let's do this!"
"Roger. As soon as the plane in front of you clears the deck, get your takeoff roll going. Godspeed, everyone!" Jamie called out as she set full flaps on her bomber unit and pushed to maximum throttle.
Her XB-25G bomber unit surged forward, straining at wartime emergency power as she slowly floated into the air. A breath of relief left Jamie's lungs, as it was replaced with cool sea air. The deck crew cheered, as Rachel took off next, followed by Dot, and the remaining B-25B's. Morale surged, as Captain York's B-25 raced down the deck and disappeared momentarily below the bow, before climbing upward into the Pacific air. As the last B-25 left the deck, Captain Mitscher saluted them from the bridge, as the Task Force hooked around and headed back for Hawaii. The flat tops slowly faded from view, and then disappeared over the horizon. The Raiders were committed, en route, and all alone now.
Dusk was falling, just as the Raiders made landfall – a small, black and red mass appeared in the ocean, not much larger than Manhattan Island. The picket ship that detected the force had been sunk, and it appeared no alert had been raised – the Raiders' arrival was unexpected.
"No fighter patrols, no welcoming flak clouds… We've achieved the element of surprise." Rachel said wondrously.
"Well then, I guess it's payback time!" Dot rubbed her hands together.
"Easy there Hallmark, remember what we're here for. We're just the 'lamplighters.'" Jamie admonished.
"That may be," Dot replied. "But we're blazing a trail towards the end of this dreadful conflict, I can feel it in my bones." She shivered with excitement.
"You've got heart, kid. I like that." Jamie smiled.
The witches were in front of the formation, just as they passed the alien beaches of South Seas Island. It was an eerie sight, as ocean waves lapped against the hostile black and red metallic structure. For something made by an extra-terrestrial species, it was bizarrely well detailed, imitating man-made factory complexes, dry docks for large type and super-large type Neuroi, an airfield, and several storage complexes. This architectural style was interrupted by the massive red octagonal crystal in the center, which seemed to function as a power plant core for the whole island.
"Damn. If we ever come back here, we're going to need a bigger bomb." Rachel scowled.
"Remember, focus fire on the factories and anything that looks flammable." Jamie ordered, opening the bomb bay doors on her unit.
Jamie activated her magic bombsight, which displayed two sets of crosshairs in front of her: One for where she was looking, and another that calculated the optimum drop point. She waited for the crosshairs to line up on the drydocks, before calling, "Bombs away!"
Dot dropped her phosphorous bombs on a production facility, calling out "Pickle! Pickle!" over the radio.
Rachel dropped off her payload on a storage complex, setting multiple fires as the other B-25's rumbled in behind her, calling "Look out below!" on the radio.
The twin engine Mitchell's opened their bomb bays, bombsights trained on the blazing fires down below. The traditional Norden bombsight on the B-25 was replaced with a lightweight and simpler low-level sight for the raid, which allowed the bombardiers to find their targets. Each plane dropped about eight 250lb incendiary bombs and started closing their doors just as ground fire began responding. The rippling explosions on the ground were soon replaced with muzzle flashes from AA guns, as the Neuroi's fierce retaliation came up to meet them.
"All wings, mission complete, get out of here. Green Hornet and Return to Sender, please assist me in strafing the fighters before they can get airborne." Jamie said.
The girls agreed, as they dove out of the sky, guns blazing. A squadron of Neuroi fighters was attempting to take off, just as Jamie fired a 75mm explosive round, leaving a burning wreck on the airstrip. Dot and Rachel swooped in with their .50 caliber machine guns, chewing up other fighters that were still parked by the hangar, leaving them in smoldering, twisted ruins. After completing the run, the witches moved to shield the fleeing bombers from flak, deploying their magic shields as they outranged the AA guns. They were home free. Almost.
A few hundred miles northwest of the South Seas Island, it was discovered that Captain York's plane had taken extensive damage, and they probably wouldn't last much longer in the air.
"There's no way we'll make it to Fuso, we're leaking too much oil. We have to land now." York urged.
"There is nothing else close by. Stick close to the group." Jamie warned.
"I can't keep this bird in the air any longer. It's been an honor to know you Lt. Col., but we have to bail out now." York answered.
"Very well. We'll try to contact the Fuso navy and have them rescue you." Jamie retorted, but there was no response. York's plane trailed oil through the sky as each crew member bailed out in sequence, and the plane lazily drifted into the water as the parachutes floated in the air. Jamie ran her hands through her hair stressfully. "All wings, report battle damage."
The comm channel soon filled up with reports of gunfire wounds, damaged control surfaces, and fuel leaks. The further the group moved to Fuso, the further away it seemed as the planes drifted into the sea one by one. Jamie watched worriedly as 1st Lt Smith on B-25 "TNT" managed to put his plane down in the water, although they couldn't confirm how many survivors made it out of the plane. Moments later, 1st Lt Lawson aboard "The Ruptured Duck" reported that he had run out of fuel, as the neoprene fuel bladder had been perforated by gunfire. Slowly but surely, the propellers stopped, as 'Ruptured Duck' floated down into the sea – there was a confirmed lifeboat in the water, but no certain idea of how many bailed out of the plane. By the time the mainland came in sight, there were only ten planes left of the original thirteen, and the three witches.
It was getting dark just as the lights of Yokohama City came into view, and most of the remaining B-25's had used up the last of their fuel reserves, as the engines began dying. One by one, the planes began drifting down into Yamashita park, crash landing as their noses plowed into the soft mud. Even the witches could tell that they were not flying any further, as almost all their energy had been spent, and the magic engines began to wind down.
"We have to set it down, girls. I don't know how close we are to the rendezvous point but we simply can't fly any further safely." Jamie said reluctantly. "Find a clearing and land, regroup with the other pilots and contact search and rescue on the designated frequency."
"Wilco." Rachel responded.
"Understood Lt. Col." Dot chimed in.
The girls lazily drifted down into Yamashita park and managed to set their bomber units down just as the magic engine gave out. Needless to say, they were exhausted even though the mission wasn't quite over yet. Only five of the remaining planes had landed in Yamashita park, the rest had enough fuel to land at Haneda Airport in Tokyo. Rachel got onto the radio and dialed in the frequency, while Dot and Jamie left their bomber units and ran over to the B-25 'Whiskey Pete' to check for survivors. Dot pulled out a small flashlight, as they peered through the cockpit windows. There was blood all over the front window, the remains of an unfortunate Cpl Leland Faktor – the flight engineer. 1st Lt. Gray was still in his seat, slumped over the remains of his fallen comrade, whimpering as tears filled his eyes. Jamie managed to get his attention, casting a worried look as she pulled the window slide back.
"1st Lt. Gray, good to see you're still alive." Jamie sighed.
"He was only 20 years old, still had his whole life ahead of him… God damn it!" Gray sobbed, slamming his fist against the flight yoke.
"Get it together soldier, we've got to find the others." Jamie urged, trying to get him out of the plane.
Dot and Jamie managed to haul the rest of the crew out of the plane, just as three Type 94 trucks drove into the area, escorted by two Type 1 Ho-Ha personnel carriers, and a Kurogane Type 95 car. A Fuso army general stepped out of the passenger side, greeting them as several of his soldiers helped get the crews into the truck beds.
"I am General Prince Naruhiko Higashikuni of the Imperial Fuso Army. On behalf of humans everywhere, we thank you Doolittle Raiders." He bowed politely.
"But… we didn't really do that much." Rachel frowned.
"Quite the contrary. You have done something that until now, no amount of military might have been able to achieve. You have shown the Neuroi that they are vulnerable, and that they can be struck from anywhere in the world, at any time. I only wish we could have done more to help – our nation has been in much suffering since the Fuso Sea Incident, and we have been short on skilled pilots and aircraft. But with pilots like you in the air, I believe it is still possible to win back this world." Naruhiko smiled.
The girls returned a salute to him, as they joined their fellow air crews in the army truck beds. They were shuttled out to Haneda Airport where the other Raiders were waiting for them, along with a C-47 Skytrain bound for home. The B-25's which were lost at sea were recovered by Fuso fishing boats, but many of the crews did not survive the water landing. The injured survivors would be returned to Liberion after receiving medical treatment and join the other Raiders in a presidential ceremony where they were all awarded with the Distinguished Flying Cross award. Those who were wounded for the raid and returned to Liberion were awarded with the Purple Heart award. Doolittle specifically was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Roosevelt himself, a feat which made her glow as she stood before the cheering Liberion public.
When asked later about the medal, Jamie simply said, "It's a beautiful and highly coveted award, but the greatest reward for me is to see the Liberion spirit regained, after the misery that was Pearl Harbor. Personally, I have been luckier than the law of averages should allow. I could never be so lucky again."
Jamie Doolittle would go on to lead the 8th Joint Strike Force out of High Wycombe, Britannia, with some of the best bomber witches from around the world. They would be the ones to liberate Karlsland via the destruction of the Berlin hive.
Rachel Cole chose a different role in life, becoming an Air Transport Command pilot in the Chinese-Burma-India campaign and flying cargo over the Himalayas, or 'The Hump.' She became instrumental in the South East Asian theater of operations with her accurate supply drops to allied troops.
Dot Hallmark was given an offer to join the 11th Joint Strike Force in Australis, under the command of Wing Commander Christine Davenport, which she gratefully accepted. She and her group would go on to make heroic achievements within the Royal Australis Air Force (RAAF), accounting for considerable roles in the assault on Neuroi occupied Rabaul, the Battle of the Coral Sea, the liberation of the Philippines, and the Borneo Campaign.