The Midway diary of a naval aviator
6 minutes off Midway

By burl burlingame
bburlingame@starbulletin.com

Kailua resident James Clair Nolan kept a secret 
most of his life. A Navy pilot during World War II, 
he kept a detailed diary and drew pictures 
throughout the conflict, a practice frowned upon by 
security-minded authorities. When he died in the 
early 1990s, he entrusted the pages to his friend 
and military historian Burl Burlingame of the Honolulu 
Star-Bulletin.

Trained as a navy bomber pilot, Nolan was in the Dutch 
East Indies when war broke out and returned to Pearl 
Harbor, where he was pressed into service flying PBY 
"Catalina" flying boats on patrol. All available forces 
were rushed to Midway, including Nolan and his crew, 
when his 1942 diary entries pick up below.

Later, Nolan served with distinction on Guadalcanal and 
became the personal pilot for Vice Adm. Aubrey Fitch. 
Nolan said his proudest moment came when in the summer of 
'43 he discovered the slowly sinking bow of the USS Helena, 
sheared off by a Japanese torpedo several days before and 
covered with desperate survivors. He stuck with the ship 
until help arrived.

After the war, Nolan joined the US Air Force and continued 
to fly. In civilian life, he was a historian at Hickam Air 
Force Base.


June 2, Tuesday

On alert almost all day today. Had my monthly allotment to 
my bank changed from $105 to $160 in view of the increase 
in pay with my new rank. 

I'm going to Midway tomorrow morning! Hope to see a little action. 
A few patrol boats have dribbled in here in the last few days 
from Midway with holes (bullets) in both boats and personnel. 
There are rumors of running battles (just like the old frigates) 
with Jap patrol planes -- each plane firing away broadside until 
one gives up or gets shot down. The Japs are flying out of wake. 

June 5, Friday

My God -- the last three days have really been something! This 
evening's dinner is my first real meal in 3 days -- since last 
Tuesday night. The interim was filled in with one regular plane 
meal on the way to Midway, a steak and some corn at Midway, 
5 or 6 soda crackers (2 with peanut butter, 4 with some tuna) 
and one small fried egg sandwich -- not much to keep a person 
ticking over. Also, since Tuesday night, I've had a total of 
about 5 hours sleep.This damned jaw of mine damn near drove me 
crazy -- it's become infected in the cavity left by the wisdom 
tooth, so what I lacked in food, the jaw made up in pus! The last 
two days the infection seems to be effecting my left ear as it 
aches fiercely at times. Well, to get on with what happened. 

Left here Wednesday morning about 6 a.m. in company with three 
other patrol planes bound for Midway. Pulled into Midway to 
find everyone excited about a Jap task force that the morning 
patrols had picked up and that six Army B-17Es were already 
out giving the works to. Talked to some of the pilots that 
had been flying the regular patrols, about their skirmishes 
with the Jap patrols out of Wake. Seems the Japs were flying 
two-engine land planes, rather than patrol boats, as I had first 
heard. As the respective patrols overlapped by a matter of some 
300 miles, fights were a daily occurrence. The Japs use a 7.7 mm 
machine gun (approx. 27 caliber) which uses a bullet having a 
fairly low muzzle velocity -- in other words it lacks "poop." 
The bullets would enter one side of the plane and fail to pass 
through the other side in many cases! Of course they had the usual 
20mm cannon in the tail. In the fights they would attempt to bring 
this tail gun to bear, but any halfway decent pilot could out-
maneuver them by simply turning in the opposite direction each time. 

My old friend Lyons (of old VP 42 in Seattle -- 1940) got into 
a scrap out there and had his starboard waist hatch 50-caliber 
machine gun jam on him -- a fact that the Jap quickly perceived. 
As the two waist hatch 50 calibers are a PBYs main armament, he 
was seriously crippled and the Jap started making runs on his 
starboard side only. He radioed in his enemy contact report 
and the plane from the next sector came over to help him. As he 
flitted from cloud to cloud with the Jap right after him, his 
compatriot from the next sector arrived just as Lyons was well 
concealed in a good sized cloud. The Jap mistook the new arrival 
for Lyons and closed in on his starboard side. They let him come 
right up to formation distance, then let fly with the .50, and 
emptied a whole canister into him. He (the Jap) wobbled away in 
a pretty sad state -- his belly literally "full." I doubt if he 
made it back to Wake. The Japs are quite afraid of our .50 caliber 
guns -- and I don't blame them, as they pack a terrific wallop. 

Midway is a large coral reef mostly submerged. There are, however, 
two small islands (composed of coral and coral sand) called Sand 
and Eastern Islands. Sand Island, the larger, contains most of 
the buildings and pre-war construction of Pan-American Airways -- 
it is the naval base. The really important unit, though, is 
Eastern island, which is the land plane field and naval air 
station. Both islands are inhabited by thousands of birds of 
three main species -- goonies, bosun birds, and terns. These 
birds make every landing and take-off a hazard for planes and 
a sure death for at least two or three birds. We hit three. 
The goonies, which in many ways resemble an albatross and most 
certainly belong to the same family, are undoubtedly the 
"clowns" of the bird kingdom. 

They bow to each other by the hour -- it is some definite ritual. 
Two birds only -- I saw a third try to horn in on a pair, but 
he was given the cold shoulder. The bowing is accompanied by a 
shuffling dance, a clicking together of beaks, and a stretching 
of the head and neck straight up. They walk about in exactly the 
same manner that the big-footed circus clowns do. As they are 
slow to act, they may be easily caught by any quick movement. 

They cannot take off down wind and if chased in that direction 
will run ahead, turn around into the wind, and then take a normal 
running take-off. They are known to land down-wind at times and 
have crashes. They also stall at times (if scared or excited) 
and go into a regular spin ending in a crack-up. They are truly 
most comical. 

The bosun birds are as famous for a single long red feather 
extending back about 12 inches from their tails. This is used 
in flight as a help to control and can be seen switching from 
side to side violently during maneuvers. They, along with the 
other birds on the island, with the exception of the goonies, 
have achieved the art of hovering in the air like a humming 
bird. The red tail feather of the bosun is highly prized and 
is usually obtained by jerking it from the tail of some nesting 
bird, which despite the assault, remains on the nest. A radioman 
from my plane got me one -- I didn't have the heart to do it.

Met Dick Blaine (of my Pensacola class) and Dick Fleming in the 
mess that evening. Both are captains! Blaine has been one for 
about four months and Fleming was only recently made one (he 
was two or three classes behind me at Pensacola!). They've 
both been out at Midway for about four or five months -- 
pretty rough duty. Also saw my old instructor (the terror 
of Sqdrn. 3 at Pensacola) -- Fieberling.
 
Stood by our own plane for the pre-sundown alert. Picked 
up a few shells, and played with the goonies. Noticed two 
other birds -- one moans and cries exactly like a baby -- 
a horrible sound and said to be damned annoying at night. 
The other bird, pure white, with red beak and coal black 
eyes, is the prototype of a "made in Japan" Xmas tree 
ornament (with a spun glass tail) which has decorated 
our family tree for years and years. When I first noticed 
the bird, I thought, "By Gum, he sure looks familiar," -- 
then I realized where I'd seen him before. 

After standby we went up to the dugouts that serve as quarters 
and took a look. I decided to sleep under the plane as the 
dugouts seemed pretty stuffy. 

Had chow -- a steak and some corn -- jaw was bothering me. 
Wandered back in the dark to the plane and watched the B-17Es 
land from their attack on the Jap ships. They said they set 
one battleship afire and sank a tanker -- we were a bit 
disappointed that they hadn't been able to do more. 

Just about ready to turn in when we got the word that 
the four of us PBYs (the "reserve striking force") were 
going out immediately on a night torpedo attack. The B-17s 
reported the Japs bearing 261, distance 572 miles at about 
three o'clock that afternoon. We were to go out and get as 
many as possible -- with PBYs!

Climbed in our planes and took off at 8:30 p.m. Got in the 
air and found that neither the Sperry Automatic Pilot nor 
the S.B.A.E. (Stabilized Bombing Approach Equipment) would 
work. We'd have to fly the whole trip manually -- some job! 
(As it turned out, I flew a full eight hours on instruments 
only, through some pretty rotten weather -- no mean achievement!) 
About 400 miles out we thought we saw anti-aircraft fire on our 
right-but due to the rotten weather we couldn't see anything on 
the water. Soon the moon started to show through the clouds once 
in a while. When we reached the 520-mile mark about 1:30 Thursday 
morning and started to turn around, the waist hatch gunners 
spotted a plane tailing us. It blinked a red identification 
light at us a few times, so we knew it was a Jap, as our planes 
don't carry red identification lights. Just as we were about to 
fire on him he disappeared. 

Can't understand why he didn't fire at us. A few seconds later 
anti-aircraft fire started going off around us. We circled 
looking for some ships, but could see nothing -- pitch black. 
Thought we'd go back to where we saw the first anti-aircraft 
fire as the Japs should have been closer to Midway in 10 hours 
than 520 miles. (As it turned out later, this anti-aircraft fire 
came from one of the outlaying units of the bunch we were looking 
for -- why they had gone only 50 miles in 10 hours though, I 
don't know. Forgot to say that we lost contact with the other 
three planes immediately after take-off -- as they also did 
with each other.) Started back, hoping to run into the Japs 
at about the 400-mile mark -- but there was nothing we could 
see. The Eastern sky started to get light -- God, but we were 
getting tired! About 5:30 it turned light and about 6 the sun 
came up. About 6:30 our radio started to hum -- the morning 
patrols out of Midway were spotting Japs North, West and South. 
 
Finally, a report came through of a large body of Jap planes 
headed for Midway -- we figured out they were only about 50 
miles behind us. Would we beat them to Midway, or would they 
catch us and shoot us down? And, incidentally, where was the 
goddammed atoll called Kure Island, which we were supposed to 
pass over before approaching Midway? Our gas was getting low, 
the air and sea were swarming with Japs, and we weren't 
positive of our position, due to the impossibility of taking 
drift sights at night. Were beginning to feel desperate when 
I spotted Kure Island off to our right on the horizon. No one 
else could see it, even after flying toward it for 10 minutes.

As we got to Kure (with sighs of relief from all hands) and 
turned toward Midway (about 30 miles away over the horizon) 
I got a jolt. -- There, rising from the island which was just 
below the horizon, were the initial columns of dirt and smoke 
indicating exploding bombs. Our base was being bombed! And now 
the smoke was rising in dense billows while new plumes of dust 
and sand continued to shoot skyward. We couldn't see the Jap 
planes however. How we had missed contacting each other I 
shall never know -- my luck was with me.

Got down about 10 feet off the water and started a detour 
(wide) around midway. Went aft and took a movie off the beam 
of Midway's plume of smoke. Dropped the $10,000 torpedo to 
save gas (it broke my heart to let it go without putting it 
into a Jap). Headed for Lisianski Island, where a YP boat 
was supposed to be available for fueling.

Got to where Lisianski should have been a few hours later, 
but could see nothing due to the heavy rain squalls. Circled 
around helplessly with an awful feeling in our hearts. 
Suddenly, below us, through the rain, I spotted the light 
blue water that indicates a submerged coral head. I knew 
then that we were right on top of the island. A few more 
circles and through a break we spotted the island -- about 
100- -by-50 yards of coral covered by sand, with millions 
of birds flying about and a few seals sleeping on the sand. 
Circled looking for the YP boat and after 15 minutes of 
futile searching, decided to take our last chance and try 
for Laysan Island -- 120 miles away and we had only about 
110 gallons of gas left -- it would be close.

An hour's flying brought us to Laysan and, thank God, 
there was a YP boat with a pair of planes already fueling 
from her. We had six gallons left.

Landed in the fairly rough water with a few nasty jolts, 
but luckily popped no rivets from the hull. Settled down 
to wait for our turn to fuel. I climbed up onto the top 
wing in the sun and, peeling off my shirt, went blissfully 
to sleep. After many hours of waiting we finally started 
fueling late in the afternoon. It continued 'til after dark. 
Decided to stay tied to YP tender overnight. Climbed up onto 
top wing about 9 p.m. and turned in.

About midnight I was awakened by a loud shout from the tender. 
Awoke in time to see a PBY taxi into the side of the tender 
with both engines turning up wildly. As soon as she hit, 
someone cut the engines, and as the roar subsided, the crunch 
of aluminum and ripping of fabric became audible. The pane's 
bow was split open and she was taking in water heavily. In a 
moment I saw that she was beginning to drift down upon us. 
Suddenly became wide awake, and jumping up, I climbed down 
to the bow and shouted and pounded on our hull to waken the 
crew sleeping inside.
 
Soon, two of them were up with me and I found myself shouting, 
"Start your engines and get the hell out of here! -- Goddammit, 
start your engines, I say!" The varied shouts and orders were 
now coming from all sides out of the darkness, however, they 
must have heard me, as they started an engine a few minutes 
later. In the meantime, they'd drifted back onto us. Their 
tail rose high on a wave and came smashing down on our 
starboard engine, completely shattering their port elevator. 

Again she rose into the air and this time came down on our 
bow with a crash as we shoved at her with all our might. 
Again, up into the air, and this time down on the port 
engine with a horrible crunch. Now her engine was started 
and she moved along to port, knocking holes in our port 
wing on the way. Her final attack was made on our port 
wing tip float, while we sat on the leading edge and 
jabbed her viciously with our heels in an attempt to 
shove her off. As a last gesture, our wing dipped, her 
tail rose and swept across our wing tip missing our 
radioman, Spahr, by a fraction of an inch -- he saw it 
coming and gave a mighty jump -- and the elevator 
surfaces swished by under him. We were slightly damaged 
but free at last.

Off to our port the plane, which we knew to belong to our 
own squadron by now (PPC-Glanz) slowly listed to port and 
dipped her port wing under. I watched horrified, fully 
expecting her to roll over, but no, she only sank lower. 
Soon she was out of sight in the darkness, except for the 
flashing of a light now and then.

I fully believe that both pilots went to sleep in the 
cockpit from pure exhaustion (they'd been taxiing for 
over six hours already, with no place to tie up). They 
were undoubtedly asleep until the moment before she hit. 
So sank about $100,000 worth of airplane and equipment -- 
radar, IFF, radio, guns, Sperry gyro, SBAE, bomb sight, 
four 500-pound bombs, food, luggage, octant, binoculars, 
etc., -- most of which could have been saved with the 
proper handling. However, I'm not saying that any of 
the rest of us could have done better.

Back to sleep. Awoke in the morning. Took on another 100 
gallons, giving us nine hundred in all. Radioed Midway 
for instructions. They ordered us to return to Pearl 
Harbor -- oh, happy message. We were by now exhausted 
and damn hungry. Got a greasy egg sandwich from the 
tender. Took Glanz, Jones, and Barnes (the three pilots 
from the sunken plane) aboard. Took off with a few mighty 
crashes on wave tops. Headed home and arrived at dusk. 
Washed up, ate (ravenously) and went down to have my 
jaw fixed up. Retired early -- exhausted.

June 6, Saturday

The newspapers are all howling over "our great victory 
at Midway." Seems as though the Japs got a good pasting. 
That's the first fight I've been in with them that 
my side won.

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