I was born and brought up in North Adams, a mill town in western Mass. My boyhood was much like that of Andy Doty who wrote that wonderful book, "Backwards Into Battle". There was one occurrence that had a great influence upon my life. My grandmother had a summer camp on Lake St. Catherine in Poultney, Vt. and we spent several weeks there each summer. One day in the early '30's a seaplane landed on the lake and taxied up to a girl's camp a few hundred yard away from our cottage. In those days this was an exciting event

and we jumped into our row boat and hurried up there. As we approached the plane a man in the open cockpit asked if we wanted a ride and we, of course, yelled "Sure." "$2 each", he responded. This shook us since, in those days, $2 was a lot of money but we hurried back to camp and asked if we could go. My grandmother said she would pay for the flight. Just about then the plane taxied away from the camp and we thought he was taking off but instead he taxied up to our dock! And so I got my first plane flight and fell in love with flying.

I graduated from high school in 1940 and entered Mass. State College, in Amherst, MA that fall. Being a land grant college, male students had to enroll in ROTC, a horse cavalry unit, for two years. In Dec. of my sophomore year, Pearl Harbor was bombed and we were in the war. At the end of that year we were told we could enlist in the army and then be placed on inactive duty for one year after which we would go on active duty. I did this and in June, 1943, was sent to Fort Riley, KS, the principal cavalry base in the army. I liked the horse cavalry but soon after we arrived at Fort Riley the horses were all shipped out and we were told we were now "Dismounted Cavalry." It soon became obvious to me that this was an euphemism for "Infantry" which I wanted no part of, so I applied for a transfer to the Air Corps, still an army branch at that time. This was granted and I was sent to Santa Anna, CA for classification and assignment.

I really wanted to be a pilot, but at Santa Ana we were given batteries of tests to determine aptitudes and, while I qualified for pilot training, my scores for navigation training were much higher and that was where I would go. While I was disappointed, it was still better than washing out as several of those in my barracks had. Those of us chosen for navigation training were sent by train to Hondo, TX, a very small town on the Texas prairie, about 50 miles west of San Antonio, for a 16 week training program This was one of the four navigation training bases in the Air Corps.

Upon completion of this basic course, several of us were sent to Boca Raton, FL., for several weeks to learn Radar Navigation preparatory to being assigned to a B-29 Group. I joined the 29th Bomb Group at Pratt, Kansas. While at Pratt we had TDY in both Cuba and Puerto Rico to gain experience in over water navigation. We finished our training at Pratt in Jan., '45 and arrived at North Field, Guam in early Feb., '45.

Now to our training. The first thing we were told at Hondo was the role of the navigator: To know a plane's ground position at all times. Initially our time was spent in ground school studying the fundamentals of aerial navigation but in subsequent weeks we flew about every third or fourth day in the basic Navigation Trainer, the AT-7. On our first day in ground school we were introduced to maps with emphasis upon the two types we would normally use, topographical maps and Mercator projections.

Topographical maps showed details of the earth's surface and easily identifiable landmarks such as roads, railroads, rivers, lakes, cities etc. while Mercator projections had no landmarks but only coordinates of latitude and longitude with all lines of longitude (meridians) being shown as parallel instead of converging towards the poles as they do on the earth' s surface. The advantage of the mercator map is that a straight line (called a rhumb line or loxodrome) drawn between two points on such a projection would give the compass heading to be followed to go between the two points (assuming no wind). Unless the points were at the same longitude, i.e., due north-south of each other, this would not be the shortest route. A great circle route would be the shortest but flying a great circle route would requires a constantly changing compass heading (except for two points at the same longitude). Since Japan was nearly due north of the Mariannas we were flying approximations of great circle.

In early 1944, the commonly used navigation methods were: a) Pilotage; b) Dead Reckoning; c) Celestial; d) Radio Compass. In late June, '44, as we were completing our course at Hondo, we were given an introduction to a new form of radio navigation, Radar Navigation, which can be considered a form of pilotage.

Pilotage consisted of following the plane's course on a detailed topographical map and determining the plane's position by identifying landmarks on the ground as you passed over them. It had an advantage that other methods did not, of being able to determine exact position by a single observation. It was useless when above a cloud cover and of limited use at night and over oceans.

Radar had several big advantages over visual pilotage in that it can be used when over clouds, at night and it can "see" much further than the naked eye. The radar set produces, on a scope, a rough "picture" of the ground area below the plane, highlighting such features as lakes, rivers and cities when on land, and islands when over water.

Dead Reckoning (DR) was the bread and butter of navigation. DR estimates a plane's position by measuring the time, direction and speed a plane has flown from a known geographical starting point. The accuracy of the estimate depends upon how well you know the direction and velocity of the wind in which you are flying.

Pilotage, Radar and DR locate a plane's position. The three methods below do not determine the point position of the plane but only a Line of Position, an LOP. An LOP may be considered a line on the earth's surface. We know we are someplace on this line but not exactly where. If we determine another LOP using a different source, the intersection of the two LOP's should tell us where we are. The ideal determination is 'triangulation', determining three LOP's crossing each other at 60º angles to fix the exact location.

Celestial navigation obtains an LOP by taking observations of celestial bodies, usually the sun or certain stars, using a bubble sextant.

Radio navigation is the determination of the bearing from the plane to a radio transmitter (station) whose ground position is known.

I don't remember when we first learned about LORAN, but I think it was shortly after we got to Guam. A loran map is a mercator with several LOP's marked on it. Each LOP has a numerical value assigned to it. This number is the value which would be read from the plane's LORAN set if the plane were located on that LOP. Sometime during our tour a LORAN station was installed on Ulithi atoll for our use.

Essential to all of these navigational methods were the instruments and tools we used. Here are most of them with brief comments on their use:

• Magnetic compass, originally, a bar magnet type like a boy scout compass but in a B-29 a magnetic flux-gate compass based upon magnetic induction. In order to determine the "true" heading of the plane, the compass reading had to be corrected for magnetic declination, the angular variation between true north and magnetic north. This was either marked on the maps for the area we were flying over or listed in tables for that area. The compass could also be affected by the plane itself so, to determine corrections for this, it must be "swung." Swinging the compass consisted of determining the planes true bearing and comparing this bearing with the compass reading. To get the true bearing we used an astro-compass, usually sighting the sun. Knowing the plane's exact geographical coordinates i.e., North Field, Guam, and time of day, a sighting of the sun with the astro-compass could be used to determine the true heading of the plane and thus the accuracy of the plane's compass reading. Changing an engine could affect the flux-gate compass so it was desirable to swing the compass after each engine change. If we were slow-timing the plane I would do it at that time.
• Air Speed Indicator. The reading from this instrument was indicated air speed, (IAS}. To get the true air speed, (TAS), corrections for altitude and temperature had to be made. We had tables of data to do this. Ground speed, (GS), was determined by correcting the TAS for the effect of the wind. This could be done with the E6B computer
• E6B computer. A hand held device similar to a circular slide rule with a slide embedded in it. Data such as air speed, wind direction and velocity, and desired compass heading could be entered to give the compass heading to fly and the ground speed. A very valuable and much used tool.
• Altimeter, to measure presumed altitude above sea level. Our altimeters were aneroid altimeters which were really barometers calibrated in feet. As atmospheric pressure changed so did the altitude reading so there was always some uncertainty in the reading. Even though we had been told about radio altimeters which measure true altitude above the ground, we did not have them
• Driftmeter. An telescope like instrument pointed straight towards the ground with a built in scale which looked much like a musical staff. This scale could be rotated and the angle of rotation measured. Selecting an object on the ground and rotating the eyepiece so the object moved parallel to the lines would give the angular drift of the plane. Measuring the time for an object to move between two lines at the front and back of the scale could be used to calculate ground speed if the exact altitude above the object were known. The E6B could be used to make this calculation
• Sextant An instrument for measuring the elevation of celestial bodies above an artificial horizon which was a bubble in the instrument. Essential for night time navigation
• Watches: We had two watches. The 'hack' watch was a wrist watch with a sweep second hand. It was used for most time determinations but might gain or lose several seconds over an hour's time. In taking a celestial shot an error of 4 seconds in time would cause a 1 mile error in position, so an accurate time at which the shot is taken is essential. The chronometer was used for this. The chronometer looked like a pocket watch. To minimize shock it was attached by small springs to the walls of a cylindrical case. The cover of the case had a glass pane so the chronometer could be read. A good chronometer would lose only a few seconds a day, at most.
• Astronomical tables. Tables which were used to determine an LOP from a shot taken on a celestial body. I'm not sure I would be able to do the calculations now but 60 years or so ago they were straightforward.
• Radio Compass. By tuning in a radio station whose location is known, and rotating a loop antenna to give maximum signal, the direction of the station from the plane (an LO could be determined.

Now, what did we do on a mission? Following the general briefing of all crew members we went to the navigator's briefing. Here we were given our mercator maps, topo maps of the target area, if they were available, and a blank log sheet upon which to record our observations. We were also given the map coordinates for the target, the IP and, for a daylight mission, of our assembly point. If life guard subs or ships were to be on duty we

were also given their coordinates. Since we normally flew up at a lower altitude than we would bomb from, we were given the point at which to start our climb to final altitude. I immediately entered all of these on my mercator map. The meteorological officer gave us the expected weather conditions over the entire route including where we might encounter fronts (on most missions we went through one or two) and the winds we might expect. Of great importance was the wind we would have immediately after takeoff since this would determine our initial compass heading. After determining from the map the true compass heading to our IP (or assembly point) I would calculate the initial compass heading to be flown by entering the true compass heading, the predicted wind and the assumed air speed into the E6B computer.

The first entry into the Navigator's log was the time of starting the engines followed by time of taxiing and then take-off time. From then on an entry was to be made every fifteen minutes or when any significant change or event occurred. Data entered were: time; compass heading; altitude; indicated air speed and outside temperature. With these data and the assumed wind, the DR position could be calculated (using the E6B) and entered on the mercator map.

I was particularly interested in determining our ground position about an hour after takeoff to check on any changes in the wind we had been given at briefing. At times, depending somewhat on our route, we might be able to get a radar fix on Saipan. In daylight with a view of the ocean, IF the sea had well defined whitecaps, we could use our driftmeter to get drift and groundspeed. I never had great confidence in results from the driftmeter over water, however. We could also take a sun shot in the daytime which gave an LOP. Once the LORAN station on Ulithi was in operation, we could use it for an LOP and cross it with the sun shot for a fix. (NOTE: The accuracy of a fix determined this way depended upon the time of day. While the LOP's from Loran were time independent, the LOP from the sun changed with time of day. If the LORAN and sun LOP's crossed at nearly right angles, the fix was quite accurate. However, if they crossed at acute angles there might be considerable error.) At night, with a clear view of the stars, a celestial fix could be taken.

During the flight I constantly monitored the compass heading to be sure we were not drifting off course. Every 15 minutes or so I would plot our DR position on the mercator and, if possible, get an LOP, either parallel to our course to be sure we were not drifting off, or perpendicular to our course to check ground speed. Problems arose when we entered a front which normally enveloped the plane in clouds. In such conditions there was almost nothing we could do except monitor the instruments. If we were close

to Iwo we might be able to pick it up on radar and thus get a fix but otherwise, until the LORAN station on Ulithi started, we were helpless. After Ulithi started operating we could get an LOP from it, which was of some help, although really bad weather could interfere with that signal. Once we broke out of the front we could take celestial shots to either get a fix or an LOP.

I got nervous as we approached the Japanese coast. Were we on course? This was particularly critical on the couple of missions on which we flew pathfinder for night raids. An error here might ruin the entire raid. I liked to get a fix about an hour or so off the coast of Japan to determine our final heading to the assembly point or to the IP. Our radar operator often was of great help with this. His set would pick up the Japan coastline and together, using topo maps, we would identify where we were and thus get the course to fly. Once at the IP or assembly point, the navigator had little to do except make observations (enemy planes sighted, intensity of flak, planes going down, time of "bombs away" etc.,) since the bombardier took control at the IP, or the lead plane at the assembly point. Just in case, I always gave our AC the heading he should fly after bombs away to reach: 1) A lifeguard sub 2) Iwo and 3) Guam.

The way home was more of the same: LOP's every 15 minutes or so and a fix every couple of hours. I did not feel as much pressure since, if I got us even close to Guam we could always use the radiocompass to home in or pick the island up on Radar, but pride made me want to hit it on the nose. There was always a sense of satisfaction when the bombardier would call out that he saw the field dead ahead.

Our last duty was at debriefing where we had to report our observations over the target plus any unusual event which had occurred. Then a shot of "Old Overshoe" from the flight surgeon and to our Quonsets to, hopefully, see all our friends back safely and to exchange horror stories.

Now a question. How necessary was the navigator? I have thought about this frequently. My guess is that most missions could have been flown without one, although the navigator made things a lot easier for the pilots. But on a few missions he might make all the difference. On one mission our Loran and radar had both been shot out. We went through a severe front. I got a celestial fix when we broke out which showed we needed a correction of several degrees to reach

Guam. Since a one degree compass error results in about a 10 mile ground error for every 500 miles flown, we would have missed Guam by 75 to 100 miles without the correction. There were planes lost on missions where nobody saw them go down. Could they have been lost because of navigational errors? It's certainly possible. Amelia Erhart apparently was! -- Alexander "Sandy" Amell

Many thanks to Sandy for putting this all down on paper for us. I truly appreciate these columns as we are all learning how difficult each position was on a B-29 and how all 11 crew members kept the planes aloft in the most difficult of circumstances. - Sallyan

Col. Carl Storrie (on the left) who, at the time, was the commander of 29th BG. He later was promoted to General and became commander of 314th Wing. I am on the right. 1945 - Courtesy of Sandy Amell

Source: B-29 Superfortress Then and Now...