The picture in the foyer
There was a picture in the foyer of my grandmother’s house that is etched in my memory. It was taken in November 1943 in the South Pacific. Three smiling men in uniform next to a B-25 bomber, My uncles Ed Poltrack, Francis Poltrack and their cousin Joey Kowaleski. It would be years till I learned the story of the photo.
An American Town Goes To War
Book excerpt (Edward Poltrack)
Edward Poltrack enlisted in the Army Air Corps after high school in 1940, with the dream of becoming a flyer. At the time, however, there was a college requirement for all pilots. When the war broke out in 1941, the college requirement was dropped, and at the age of 20, he became a B-25 pilot. During the war, Poltrack flew 61 missions in the Southwest Pacific, most of them in New Guinea. On 15 of those flights, he served as the Squadron Commander.
New Guinea jungle
I arrived in New Guinea in the fall of 1943. The temperature was always around 100 degrees, and the humidity was incredible. It was a fascinating place, like being taken back in time. There was a terrifically dense jungle, and the terrain went from sea level to 15,000 feet. The Japanese still held northern New Guinea. To get there, we had to fly directly over steep mountains. Getting this huge plane with all of its weight over these mountains was always an experience. The plane would be chugging and shaking while it made the steep climb, and all the while you’d be practically touching the tree tops. Then, once you were over the mountains, you’d have to go into a straight dive down to the target. The weather was also a major factor. Sometimes everything would be fine, then suddenly you’d be in the middle of a thunderstorm.
The first mission turned out to be a pretty hot target. We were attacked by Japanese fighter bombers, and when we went low, we were fired on from the ground. I could see this guy on the ground firing a machine gun at us. We were going close to 200 miles per hour, and I probably only saw him for a split second, but I remember him very clearly. At one point, I broke formation, and the Flight Commander yelled at me to, “Get the hell back here.” I never really felt the danger, though; I was busy looking for a target.
Reunion with brother
While we were in New Guinea, I met up with my cousin who was a First Sergeant with a photo outfit. He told me that my brother, Frank, was on one of the neighboring islands. It was Christmas, so I asked the Squad Commander if I could take a plane to look for him. My Commander took a big chance, but he actually let me do it. Sure enough, my cousin and I found Frank. He had just arrived from Guadalcanal and was preparing for another landing. I was so lucky to find him because we got to spend a few hours together. Incidentally, the next day I actually flew a mission which supported his Marine Division as they invaded Cape Gloucester. As the plane peeled up, I could see the boats going in and it was like a scene from a John Wayne movie. Here I was flying a mission and down below, my brother was making the landing. We were supposed to fire our machine guns in bursts because the barrels got too hot and burned out. That day, I burned out all of my guns because I just kept firing. Francis made it through the landing, and I visited him shortly after when they secured the islands, but this was the last time I saw him. Later he was killed during the invasion of Peleliu. I was up in the Philippines when I got the news. The next day, I received a letter he had written the day before he died.
The weather as the enemy
Most of the time the weather was more dangerous than the Japanese. One time we were supposed to hit an area of flatland that was almost at sea level. It was a new target, and I was on the Flight Leader’s wing. There was a bank of clouds straight ahead near the base of a mountain. I assumed that our Flight Leader would go above the clouds; instead he flew right into them. He must have had second thoughts because all of a sudden he went into a steep bank to lead us back out of it. I went full throttle to keep up with him, but suddenly I couldn’t see him at all. I knew that there were mountains ahead, but I wasn’t sure exactly where. Just as I pulled the plane up and out of the clouds, I saw Japanese fighter planes ahead. For a split second I thought, “Oh no, I’m alone here with these fighter planes.” But then two more of our planes popped out of the clouds, and Lord knows where the others were. I signaled the others to get on my wing and follow me to the target. But I wasn’t sure where the target was. We ended up joining another squadron and followed them to the target. The Japanese fighters were outnumbered and pulled away.
Just as we hit the target, I heard a large bang. A 20mm shell hit the armor plate on the front of the plane. The plane was clanking along, and I knew that I shouldn’t attempt to climb over the mountains so we landed at an alternate base. When we landed back at the home base, the Commanding Officer asked me what had happened. I told him, and he just mumbled and walked away. We later found out that our flight leader and the rest of the squadron had turned around and never got to the target. We were the only ones who completed the mission.
Probably the toughest mission we ever had was a 10-hour, round trip flight to Hollandia, which was at the far end of New Guinea. Of 127 planes that went out on that mission, only about half made it back. In fact, our plane was the only one in our squadron to land intact. On the way back from Hollandia, there was a terrible storm. To get back to our base, we had to go through a cut in the mountains. But the visibility was so poor that I decided to follow the coast and try to land at an alternate base. The storm got worse, and we had to drop right to the deck (fly just above the trees). We could barely see enough of the coast to gauge where we were. Every once in a while, a plane would soar by, but not too many knew where they were going. All of a sudden, there it was, the prettiest sight I’d ever seen a little airstrip. It was one of those temporary runways which were made of metal matting. The metal runways were al- ways short and didn’t give you a lot of room to land. As we got closer, we could see damaged airplanes all around. One with blown tires, another that had gone right off the runway, and one with damaged landing gear. Fortunately, we landed safely and taxied to watch the other landings. Two planes collided on the runway and exploded into flames. Another plane came in and caught its wing on the wreckage and sheared it right off. We’d seen enough, and the first thing we did was get ourselves a drink. This was probably the scariest day of the war for me.
Not like the movies
We had limited contact with Japanese fighters, but I do remember one time we were attacked by one. I looked out and as plain as day, there was a fighter coming right at us. I could see the flashes of the machine gun firing right at our plane. “Hey this guy’s for real,” I thought. Luckily, one of our gunners got him, but it was nothing like in the movies when the crew is talking to each other over the intercoms. This was more like a baseball game with everyone shouting out directions at the same time. My co-pilot eventually got his own plane and was lost at sea. We searched for him, but I remember thinking how impossible it would be to find him in such a vast ocean.
Then after my 61st mission, I was asked to volunteer for just one more. It was going to be an attack on the Japanese fleet. I had never been involved with a mission like this, so I was very reluctant to go. But I volunteered anyway. At the last minute though, some new hotshot colonel came in and wanted to fly, so I was bumped. It turned out to be a very tough mission, and the first three planes in the squadron were shot down. Once again, I was a very lucky man.
