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This story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Robert H Allison.

Sometime early in August, I received orders to proceed to North Bend, Oregon to join Composite Squadron 93, known as VC-93. This trip was again by train and took about three days to get there. At least I had a bunk all to myself. On the same train were Bates and Glista. Bates was going to VC-91 at Astoria, Or. and Glista was going to VC-94 at Klammath Falls, Oregon. Also, on this same train was another pilot, ( a TBF photo pilot, who had been in the class after me at Harrisburg), going to the same squadron that I was headed for, VC-93). This guy's name was James Mallard Wells. On the train, he came looking for me as I was the other photo reconnaissance pilot going to NAS North Bend. From that time until the day VC-93 was decommissioned he would be the closest friend I would have in the squadron. Wells and I departed the train in some small town in the center of Oregon with about three hours layover time in this burg waiting for a bus. Wells decided we should go horseback riding. We found a stable, rented a couple of "tame" horses and took off over hill and dale.

We were riding across somebody's pasture and into somebody's backyard when we looked up and saw this woman sitting on her back porch. "Ole" gutsy Wells rides right up to her and strikes up a conversation like he had known her all his life. She invited us up and we spent about an hour in idle talk while she served us lemonade and cookies. I was beginning to know a very unusual guy.

Just before we boarded the bus we took off for a market where we loaded up on apples, oranges and a few other bits of junk food for the next few hours that we would be spending on the bus. Naturally, we were the last ones on the bus and wound up sitting in the stair well in the entry way of the bus. Wasn't bad! We had a nice little party going before a couple of seats opened up and we had to move.

We arrived at the air station in the very late evening, well after dark, checked in with the duty officer and were told to find our selves a bunk in the junior officers quarters and come back in the morning. There wasn't anyone in the lobby so we
went in the bunk room and in the dark selected a bunk that appeared not to have been claimed by anyone and didn't have a body in it. I was lucky. I guessed right. Wells guessed wrong. Some time later in the middle of the night someone asked him nicely and politely to move.

The following morning we were signed into the squadron and began our training as a member of an organized combat team that we would be with for the next year through thick and thin.

Composite Squadron-93 had been commissioned in February of 1944 at NAS Sandpoint in Seattle, Washington and had spent some time at Astoria, Or. before coming to North Bend. The squadron's flying personnel had diminished due to deaths, sickness, incompatibility and maybe other reasons. Wells and I were the first replacement pilots to join the squadron. Others were soon to follow and the squadron would continue to receive replacement pilots for various reasons until near the end of our tour with VC 93.

The squadron consisted of twenty four fighter pilots and eighteen bomber pilots. The fighter pilots were divided in to two wings, Each wing consisted of three divisions of four planes each. Each division consisted of two sections and each section consisted of two planes. I became the wing man in the second section of the 1st division of the 1st wing. The leader of the 1st wing was the commander of the squadron, Lieutenant Commander Chester Pond Smith. The skipper was also the leader of the 1st division. The 2nd wing was lead by the future executive officer of the squadron, Lieutenant Ira "Redhorse" Myers.

Commander Smith was an engineering graduate of Georgia Tech University and became a naval aviator in 1935. This was his first command. Lieutenant Myers became the executive officer in November when the existing executive officer. a TBM pilot, failed to qualify aboard a carrier. I don't know where Redhorse got his nick-name but I suspect that it was from the fact that he was six foot, five inches tall and weighed 256 pounds and was redheaded. He was so big that he had to lower the seat in the plane to the bottom and still duck his head to close the canopy. He was a true "Texan". Prior to joining the squadron he had been an instructor in primary flight school and his most famous student was the actor, Robert Taylor. He was given a gold four-leaf clover medallion by Robert Taylor and his wife Barbara Stanwyck when Taylor graduated from primary flight training.

My first day with the squadron consisted of introductions to the other members of the group, familiarization with the airplane and a check ride with CAG (commander of the air group), Commander Smith. First thing was that I would no longer be flying the F6F but would be flying the FM-2. The FM-2 was still the F4F but had been improved with a 1500 HP engine. Everything else was basically the same and still very comfortable to fly.

On this check ride I was to fly on the skipper's wing through out the whole flight regardless of what he did, loops, rolls, a pilot whatever and not to lose that position. I'm happy to say that he couldn't shake me and I like to think that he was impressed with my flying and that is why I wound up in his division. Actually, I was wing man to "Bugs" Dunagan, the second section leader. We were to fly together for the most part until near the end of our combat tour.

"Bugs" Dunagan had been a seaman and was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked by the Japanese. He was wounded and had received the Purple Heart. He was chosen by the Navy for flight school and had been a pilot for only a couple of months before I graduated from flight school. I was to remain his wing man until June of 1945 when he took over the lead of the 1st division and I became the section leader in his flight.

We were to remain at North Bend for two weeks before moving on to our next station. During this period we performed the usual combat tactics minus the photo reconn flights. As a matter of fact, I never flew another photographing flight while I was in the Navy. Explain later!

With out a doubt one of the most instructive flights I had occurred here at North Bend. On this flight, a gunnery target practice flight with Redhorse Myers, I wasn't causing much damage to the target so Redhorse told me to pull my plane up beside the target, stay there and watch the tracer bullets as he made a run. This was to show how far apart the tracers would be if you let the pipper in the gun sight slide down the rope and through the target as he made an over head run. As I watched I could see a tracer pass ahead and the next pass behind. Neither hit the target. Even if one hit the other would miss. Then he told me to watch while he made the same over head run and pull back hard on the stick holding the pipper on the 90 mil ring in the gun sight. A great percentage of the tracers passed right through the target area. I was then given the chance to try out what I had seen. I could see my own tracers go into the target area. On examination of the target after the flight revealed a good percentage of hits. From that day on I was second only to another lieutenant for high score in the squadron. Also, I indirectly got my butt chewed for holding down on the trigger too long thus supplying a quantity of tracers close to the tow plane. Fortunately, the tow pilot did not know who had made the pass. Nor did I tell him.

In this short period of time at North Bend all the single officers made an over night camping trip to Loon Lake for fishing and a few of the guys went deer hunting with a rifle, a pickup truck and a spot light. Even though they could see the shining eyes of the deer and shot at them from the truck, they didn't score one kill. No fish either. We had to sleep on the ground in our clothes and only one blanket. Even though it was late August it was cold on that mountain. I was never crazy about camping even as a boy scout and this experience didn't improve my attitude toward the outdoor life one bit.

A few days before we were to leave North Bend, Jim Wells was operated on for appendicitis and spent the last few days in the hospital. On the next to last day all the planes at North Bend were to be flown to Sand Point.

This was quite a blow to Wells because it had been his plan to fly one of the TBMs and go visit the wife of Admiral Taffenger, the commandant of the 13th Naval District at Sand Point. He tried to get me to make his social call. I wouldn't have any part of it. First, because I didn't know how well, or if, he knew them. And second, I wasn't socially inclined and could not imagine holding a conversation with the Admiral's wife let a lone the Admiral if he were home. Come to learn that Wells did know the Admiral and his wife as well as their daughter whom he had dated in Washington, D.C. before the war. Upon our return to North Bend the squadron boarded a train and we were off to NAS Holtville at Holtville, Ca. Wells included.

Continued.....
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