John Thomas (Jack) O’Brien in WWII - In His Own Words
Foreword by Rob Landsberry
Somehow my Mum managed to end up with a lot of O’Brien family material, but this one has got me completely stumped. Recently, as I sorted through yet more of Mum’s memorabilia, I came across 34 handwritten pages penned by my uncle, and Mum’s eldest brother, John Thomas (Jack) O’Brien. You can see the handwritten document by clicking here.
It documents Jack’s time as a pilot during WWII, spanning three separate periods:
Malaya – 1940 to 1942
Supply Dropping in New Guinea - 1942 – 43
Operations in Liberators in New Guinea - 1944
Small sections of this material were included in several books which cover the war in the air. These are documented elsewhere on the website (click here). But I believe that most of what follows has not seen the light of day for many years.
Along with the handwritten material, there was a typed transcript of Jack’s document, and at first I thought Jack may have given the material to my Dad (Alf Landsberry) to type up for him, as Dad was a shorthand/typist. But there are too many typing errors, misspelt place names, and other errors for Dad – he was an absolute stickler for getting those sorts of things right. And my Dad didn’t know the O’Briens at the time Jack wrote the letter and diary in 1944. My Mum was just 16 then, and she and Dad were yet to meet.
You’ll also notice at the top of Jack’s introductory letter to his father‑in‑law, Tom Flanagan (click here), there are the handwritten words “5 copies – Single spacing”. This doesn’t look like my Dad’s writing, nor does it look like Jack’s, so perhaps it belongs to whoever was tasked with typing up the document.
I discussed this with Jack’s daughter and my cousin, Mary Zabell, and one possible explanation is that after he got the document back from his father‑in‑law, perhaps Jack gave it to his Dad (Bill O’Brien) to read, and somehow it was never given back. Because Bill lived near our place until his death in 1974, when his house was cleared out, Mum ended up with material that crossed the various O’Brien families. So, perhaps that’s it.
Any information that helps to explain how this document ended up in my hands would be most welcome. You’ll be pleased to know that it’s now been returned to Jack’s children.
Whatever the reason, it was an AMAZING find, providing a first hand insight into the war in the air from a close relative, and in their own handwriting.
After discussion with a few people (Mary Zabell included), we agreed that I could make some editorial changes to Jack’s original document, to make it easier to read. These included some small changes to sentence structure, correcting a few spelling and grammar issues, changes to punctuation, and modifying place names where they were incorrectly spelt. I’ve also added some text in square brackets where place names have changed since WWII, and to provide additional context and links.
None of these changes takes anything away from Jack’s original intention, but if you want to read Jack’s account exactly as originally written, the handwritten version is here, and the typed transcripts are here and here.
Introduction by Mary Zabell (nee O’Brien)
My father, John Thomas (Jack) O'Brien was born in Cootamundra NSW in 1918.
John Thomas O’Brien with his sister Mary Caroline O’Brien in 1918
He was the second eldest of twelve children. At the time of writing the letter below in 1944, he’d been in the RAAF for 5 years, having volunteered in 1939. He’d been a bomber pilot who’d flown almost 100 missions through Southeast Asia, notably across the the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), Malaya, Singapore and New Guinea.
Family stories indicate Dad may have developed his love of flying from a visit, perhaps to Wagga Wagga, of Charles Kingsford Smith who was barnstorming around Australia raising money for another long flight. It’s said that, as a teen, Dad took a flight with Charles Kingsford Smith, but this is entirely apocryphal, and no evidence exists to support the tale. That said, the following press clipping does show that Kingsford Smith was in Wagga Wagga in November 1933 when Dad was 15.
Whatever the truth, Dad joined the RAAF in 1939 after returning to do his Leaving Certificate at St Joseph's at Hunter's Hill in Sydney, aged twenty. He’d apparently been determined to do it as fast as possible as he completed the year's course in three months.
St Joseph’s College, Hunters Hill, 1940
At the time of writing the following letter to his father in-law, Tom Flanagan, Dad had returned from operational service with the RAAF in Southeast Asia, and he, his wife Cecilia and their first-born child, John were living at the Tocumwal Hotel, with Dad serving at the nearby airbase.
RAAF Station Tocumwal was a major Royal Australian Air Force base established early in 1942 to provide a secure base for United States Army Air Forces heavy bomber units. It had been constructed by the Americans to support Australia's armed forces and their efforts to repel a possible invasion of Australia, with Tocumwal chosen as it was located in the far south of NSW, and was seen to be well away from the potential dangers of northern Australia.
While the USAAF doesn’t appear to have used the base, it was heavily used by the RAAF and, from 1944, it was home to the RAAF's heavy bomber support and operational conversion units including No. 7 Operational Training Unit in which Dad served as a flying instructor.
Group photo of air and ground personnel of No. 7 Operational Training Unit
Mum and Dad had married in Wagga Wagga NSW in 1942 and their first child John was born on May 26th, 1943.
Mum and Dad on their wedding day - 26 May 1943
At the time of writing the letter below, with its references to their uncomfortable lodgings in the Tocumwal Hotel, John Junior would have been aged about sixteen months and Mum recounted some interesting hurdles faced with the lady who ran the accommodation. She must have been a formidable and forbidding person because she refused to allow Mum to use the kitchen to boil an egg for John's dinner. What a battleaxe! Mum was forced to use subterfuge. She befriended the cook who allowed her to sneak down to the kitchen after dinner was completed and cook something for herself and the baby. Dad refers to moving into a flat and that this would be much more comfortable. I have no doubt Mum was behind the move!
Tocumwal Hotel 1940’s
The letter promised to recount Dad's 'adventures' while flying missions around the islands and countries of Southeast Asia. There are hair-raising accounts of damaged planes being carefully flown to bases, near misses and tragic losses of crew members which must have been unspeakably difficult to process. But duty was paramount and there was no time to mourn lost comrades. Perhaps the sheer magnitude of their task took over and allowed those pilots and crew to just keep going as best they could. I would not be writing this introduction if it were not for that indomitable spirit.
Letter from John O’Brien to Tom Flanagan
Tocumwal Hotel, Tocumwal
7/7/1944
Dear Mr Flanagan
You will find enclosed my story of my experience in ops of war. I feel that as a literary effort it is very poor, but I hope you will find some of the incidents and happenings interesting reading. Some of the Singapore dates may be a day or two out, but all the facts are correct as far as I can remember.
Unfortunately I have been very busy since I came back, and have been doing a lot of night flying, with the result that I had to rush through the story and haven’t had a chance to re-write it. However I hope you will be able to understand my very poor handwriting and excuse the untidiness of the epistle.
We move into our flat on Monday and I think it should be very good, much better than here at any rate.
Give my chin-chins to Mrs Flanagan, also Charlie and the Ities. Hope to see you again in a few weeks’ time.
Yours sincerely
John
A Note from Mary Zabell
You’ll notice that Dad refers to the ‘Ities’ in the above letter. The word ‘itie’ (pronounced ‘eyetie’) is a derogatory term for an Italian which emerged during WWII when the Italians joined forces with the Germans.
Dad’s mention of the ‘Ities’ in his letter is a reference to the fact that, during WW2, my grandfather Tom Flanagan had Italian POWs working for him on his farm at Ladysmith, near Wagga, NSW. There were several POW camps in the Riverina region of NSW, including one at Yanco and one near Hay. These camps were not only used to house POWs, but also Australian residents of Japanese, Italian and German descent.
After Italy signed an armistice with the Allies in September 1943, Australian authorities took between 13,000 and 15,000 Italian prisoners out of the POW camps and put them to work, mostly on farms, where there were significant labour shortages due to the war.
I have no knowledge of how Tom gained access to some of these POWs, but they worked on the farm for some time, and I think had quite good relationships with the Flanagan family.
One story my mother recounted, with some disgust, was concerning the Ities’ lack of appreciation for the food they were given. Or perhaps the Itie involved just didn’t realise what was happening. In any case, one of the Ities was tasked with carrying a plate of lamb loin chops up to the nearby woolshed to be used for lunch. Mum must’ve followed him a little later because she found lamb chops lying in the dirt at various intervals along the road to the woolshed.
She also told of seeing a photograph of one of the Ities’ family. One can only imagine their distress and homesickness. Living for years so far away from Italy and not being able to contact their loved ones must’ve made the incarceration very galling.
You can read more about the Italian POWs by clicking here.
Aerial shot of Laverton airbase - 1940’s
No troubles were experienced on the trip, and we landed in Singapore four days after leaving Laverton. This was just about 18 months before the Japanese War started. Singapore, we found, was a cosmopolitan city, but a good time could be had in various night clubs if one had plenty of spare cash. However I will brush over the Singapore and Malaya of peace days and endeavour to give an outline of my experiences in the Malayan campaign.
On the 6th of December 1941 No. 1 Squadron was stationed at Kota Bharu, Kelantan, about 16 miles south of the Thailand border. Apparently, Far East Headquarters had been nervous about the intentions of the Japanese for some time and had had us doing regular patrols from Kota Bharu towards Indochina [now Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos].
On the 6th of December 1941 one of our Aircraft on patrol found a large Japanese convoy rounding Cambodia Point in Indochina, and reported it as consisting of a battleship, 25 merchant vessels, and a large number of cruisers and destroyers. This intelligence was immediately conveyed to Far East Headquarters, and no doubt the whole world knew of it next day [the next day was the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour]. It is significant at this stage to realise that, although America must have known of the activities of the Japanese fleet and merchant marine, the attack on Pearl Harbour was a complete surprise.
However, to get back to the Japanese convoy, immediately it was reported, extra aircraft were sent out to shadow during the night, but unfortunately contact with it was lost, and it is assumed that it altered course up the Indochina coast into The Gulf of Siam [now the Gulf of Thailand].
However, about 7 o'clock on the night of the 7th of December, one of our patrolling aircraft located four merchant vessels escorted by cruisers and destroyers about 80 miles northeast of Kota Bharu and was fired upon by the Japanese. At this time we all realised that the war would probably start that night, so all aircraft were bombed up in readiness.
Our first indication that we were at war with the Japanese was machine gun fire from the beach four miles away.
Soldiers of the 5th division of the Imperial Japanese Army land during the invasion of Malaya in early December 1941
Just after midnight on the morning of the 8th of December, the Army reported four ships standing offshore with Japanese troops attempting to land. We immediately went into action and the first aircraft was airborne about half past twelve.
I was the second aircraft off to attack the shipping, doing a dive bombing and machine gunning attack on a large merchant vessel about four miles from the beach. It was a surprise attack, and I did not have a shot fired at me, but unfortunately my bombs hung up and would not release. I returned to the strip where the trouble was rectified, and I took off for another attack. The CO ordered me to do a search out to sea some 30 miles from the coast behind the merchant vessels to ascertain if there were any cruisers and destroyers out further, but to come back and attack the merchant vessels near the beach, as they were the number one priority.
I found several cruisers and destroyers out some distance from the coast and then returned towards Kota Bharu to attack the merchant shipping. Seeing a ship underneath me about 10 miles from the coast, I decided to attack. It was a nice moonlight night and going out wide I came in at sea level for a mast height attack. When within half a mile of this ship it put up such a concentrated ack-ack barrage that I realised it was a cruiser and veered off around its bows, taking violent avoiding action while my rear gunner machined-gunned the decks as we passed. Realising the mistake I had made In attempting to attack a cruiser from low level, I returned towards the merchant ships near the beach and carried out a mast height attack on a large merchant vessel which was stationed about four miles from the beach, apparently unloading troops, as it was surrounded by barges.
I encountered considerable light ack-ack fire during my bombing run, but took violent avoiding action and dropped my stick of 4,250 pounders across its bows, getting a direct hit. It is possible that my other bombs did considerable damage to the barges which were clustered around the side of the vessel, but it was too dark to say definitely.
There was considerable barge activity from the merchant vessel to the beach, and there was no scarcity of targets, which we machine gunned as opportunity offered while returning to the aerodrome.
When I landed, I had to pull in behind about half a dozen Hudsons all lined up with their crews clamouring for their aircraft to be bombed up. The armament section was completely swamped with the rapidity with which the Hudsons dropped their bombs and returned for more, and I had to wait about an hour and a half before my aircraft was ready for another raid. The Japanese ships were only eight miles from the aerodrome and a raid could be carried out from take-off to landing in less than half an hour. However I took off again just about dawn and found that the Japanese were withdrawing the remnants of their shipping northwards towards Singora in Thailand [now Songkhla].
An RAAF Lockheed Hudson of the type flown by Jack
The bombing attacks from the Hudsons had sunk a large Japanese transport just offshore from Kota Bahru and another large transport was on fire from stem to stern and subsequently sunk. While checking up on the retreating convoys course and speed, I was fired upon by the cruisers and destroyers who put a barrage of heavy and accurate ack-ack fire. I also ran into a formation of nine Japanese bombers over the convoy, who were I think, returning from the first enemy raid on Singapore. I had no difficulty In eluding them as there was a considerable amount of cloud cover about.
Unfortunately I was unable to report the position of the convoy by wireless, as my wireless set was unserviceable, and I had received orders before I took off to return to the aerodrome immediately and report its position verbally. This I did after spending a pleasant few minutes bombing and strafing all the barges and Japanese troops I could find in the immediate vicinity of the beach opposite Kota Bharu.
I had the pleasure of witnessing an excellent piece of work by two of our Hudsons at the same time. They had located about 500 Jap troops with 50 horses on a small strip of sand near the beach, and bombed and strafed them until not a living thing moved. After firing a few hundred rounds to add to the carnage myself, I landed and reported the position of the convoy, and a squadron of torpedo bombers were dispatched to attack but failed to do any damage.
A squadron of Hudsons had arrived from Kuantan just after dawn to attack the Jap convoy, but not knowing it had been withdrawn and was some 40 miles north of Kota Bharu, did the next best thing end attacked the barges and armoured boats that were still around in large numbers.
At about 9 o'clock in the morning, the Zeros attacked the aerodrome for the first time. They attacked It seven times during the day. During their strafing runs at different times, they destroyed or rendered unserviceable six Hudsons.
Zeros in formation over Asia
About midday the army reported a large transport and barges at the mouth of the Kota Bahru river [now the Kelantan River], so myself and two others were sent off to attack It. There was no sign of any large transport, but we found several armoured barges and other enemy craft which we bombed and strafed, sinking several and damaging others. However we could not sink the armoured barges. They were very small and hard to hit with bombs, and I fired a thousand rounds of ammunition at one barge without any visible effect. I could actually see my bullets bouncing off the armoured deck.
Captured Japanese Armoured Barge WWII
Each armoured barge was armed with a heavy machine gun in turrets fore and aft, and managed to shoot us pretty well full of holes, bursting a tyre on one of the Hudsons. However ack-ack is not nearly the hazard in the daytime as it is at night, and we strafed these barges with complete disregard for any ack-ack, mainly because we couldn't see any. This was the last operation I was destined to fly from Kota Bahru, as the next time I flew was at 4.30 in the afternoon, when we were forced to evacuate the aerodrome, which was only four miles inland.
Although It was reported we had killed some 12,000 Japs in bombing and strafing attacks, the remnants of the Japanese Force had succeeded in establishing a foothold on the beach, and were pushing Inland. They had infiltrated through the jungle and had captured the end of one of the runways. At about 3 o’clock in the afternoon the order was given to evacuate the drome.
The operations room and all the big buildings on the drome were set on fire, and everyone assembled and prepared to evacuate. The one landing strip still in our command presented an amazing spectacle with several crashed Hudsons and one crashed Buffalo strewn along its 1,500 yards of length.
A Japanese Zero fighter sits on the runway at R.A.A.F. Kota Bharu airfield after the site's capture by Japanese forces
Between 3 o'clock and 4.30 the Zeros were strafing us almost constantly and it was decided to evacuate our aircraft as soon as possible to Kuantan, which is halfway from Kota Bharu to Singapore to try and save them. The aircraft I had been using all night, Hudson A16-92, had been badly damaged by strafing and was unflyable, with all the petrol tanks and both tyres being badly holed. I was ordered to try and fly A16-23 to Kuantan. This aircraft had been badly shot up during the previous night’s bombing, and I found that a .5 calibre bullet had penetrated the side of one of the cylinders and had found its way into the combustion chamber. At that time I did not know that this bullet had penetrated the top or the piston, and with every revolution of the engine, it was pushed up against the top of the cylinder head. I flew this aircraft from Kota Bharu to Singapore in this condition, a distance of 350 miles, and when it was dismantled it was found that ail the rings had been welded to the piston, and extensive damage had been done to the cylinder head and walls. However, the motor kept going, which speaks volumes for the design of Pratt and Whitney engines.
Engine mechanics working on the Pratt & Whitney Twin Wasp engine of a Lockheed Hudson
However to get back to the story, at about 4 o'clock in the afternoon I climbed into A16-23 with 17 passengers to take off for Kuantan. I started the port motor OK, but the starboard motor, which was the one with the bullet in the engine, refused to start. I was giving this motor all my attention trying to get it started when I heard someone yell, and looking out the port window I saw about a dozen Zeros peeling off to strafe the aerodrome. They were obviously making for four Hudsons in line, of which I was one, so I decided it was time I left that vicinity very quickly.
I yelled to my crew to jump out and take cover, but before we could do so the Zeros were shooting. We were amazingly lucky as they picked out two other Hudsons and filled them full or holes, and we escaped unscathed. We all managed to eventually pile out of the aircraft and take cover while the Zeros strafed the aerodrome at will. As soon as they had gone, we jumped back into the aircraft and I managed to get the starboard motor started, although It was banging and spluttering badly. I immediately taxied up to the end of the runaway and started to take off. It proved to be a rather intrepid take-off, weaving in and out among crashed aircraft, but the starboard engine kept going and we made It OK.
Incidentally, I had warned my rear‑gunner that there were Japanese snipers and machine gunners on the end of the other runway and told him to keep a sharp lookout as soon as we were airborne. We were fired on as soon as we cleared the tops of the trees, and the rear gunner returned the fire and reported that he thought he had knocked a couple of Japs out of the trees.
Shortly after becoming airborne I sighted six Zeros cruising around about 30 miles south of Kota Bharu obviously waiting to descend on aircraft attempting to get away. I managed to give them the slip by flying about 10 feet above the beach alongside the coconut palms which were about 50 feet high and effectively hid me.
An AI interpretation of a bomber flying just above the beach
We arrived at Kuantan after an hour’s flight and landed just before dark and managed to get a few hours’ sleep. We were woken up about dawn by the air raid siren which announced the fact that we were about to be bombed. We were bombed three times while we were at Kuantan during the morning of the 9th of December. There were no ack-ack defences at Kuantan and the Japs’ bombers strafed the aerodrome in formation after bombing us.
Far East Headquarters ordered the evacuation of ail aircraft to Singapore island. I again took off in A16-23 with the dud motor and made it again, safely landing at Singapore just after midday. We immediately set to work to get our remaining aircraft serviceable. Of the 16 Hudsons we had at Kota Bharu, we’d lost nine, two being shot down during the bombing attacks, while others were so badly shot up they had to be destroyed on the drome. Our total damage sustained was two crews missing and nine Hudsons destroyed. This left us with only seven aircraft, so five crews were dispatched to Darwin to bring back five Hudsons.
For the next fortnight we were doing mainly recco patrols out into the China sea, and up the east and west coasts of Malaya, with occasional bombing attacks on Kuantan aerodrome which the Japs had swiftly occupied. On the 15th of December, myself and two other crews were called to the operations’ room and given a recco to do up as far as Kuala Pahang, just south of Kuantan and out to sea for 50 miles. We were told that a report had come through of a Jap battleship with escort In that area. Our orders were to attack the battleship on sight. Fortunately for us there was no battleship in the area, as we considered our chances of surviving an attack on a battleship in Hudsons to be practically nil.
On the morning of the 26th of January one of our recco patrols reported a large convoy consisting of several cruisers, about eleven destroyers, and three merchant vessels about 80 miles north or Singapore, attempting to land troops just north of Mersing, on the east coast of Malaya. The convoy had been located at 7 o’clock in the morning, but we were told to standby, and were not given the order to attack until 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
The attacking force consisted or nine Hudsons in formation with a fighter escort of six Buffalo fighters, the first and last time we received fighter escort during the Malayan campaign.
An F2A Buffalo Fighter
It took us less than half an hour to get to the target area. We were no sooner in sight of the Japanese ships, when some 50 Jap Zeros jumped on us from above. I was in the centre of a closely packed formation of nine aircraft and the first Zero attacked from above. With his first burst he killed my wireless operator, who was on one of the side guns, and also killed my second pilot who was sitting alongside me. My second pilot was killed by a bullet through the head, which afterwards struck me on the shoulder, knocking me over the controls, and lodging underneath my badges of rank on my shirt. The bullet when it struck me was apparently almost spent, although it struck hard enough to knock me forward over the stick, and it cut and bruised my shoulder.
We were at 7,000 feet when attacked, and the next thing I remembered was diving, almost vertically through clouds. I pulled out of the dive and remaining in the cloud I took stock of what had happened. My second pilot was obviously dead alongside me, when I looked back down the cabin, I could see that my wireless operator appeared to be dead also. I tried to call my rear-gunner on the intercommunication, but it had been shot away during the attack, and I was unable to find out if he was alive.
My second pilot’s feet were all tangled up amongst the throttle and bomb door levers, and I was unable to control the aircraft and lift him out of the way at the same time. I could not get my bomb doors open for bombing, so i Immediately decided to return to base.
The cloud cover was big lumpy cumulus from 2,000 to 7,000 feet, and about 7/10ths covered. The Jap fighters were playing a game of hide and seek tactics with the Hudsons. They would cruise around above the cloud waiting for the Hudsons to come out and then shoot them up. After several attempts I made my way from cloud to cloud and eventually got out of the area.
My aircraft, although considerably holed, was flying OK and I had no difficulty landing back at base. My rear gunner, when he stepped out of the turret and saw the two other crew members dead, received such a shock that we had to put him in hospital, and I had to get an entirely new crew.
Three days later, on the 29th of January, all the bomber aircraft on Singapore were evacuated to Sumatra, as too many of them were being destroyed on the ground owing to heavy Jap bombing attacks. The Japs attacked our aerodrome on Singapore almost at will because of the lack of fighter and ack‑ack protection.
In Sumatra we were based at a big secret aerodrome about 40 miles inland from Palembang, which we called P2 [note there were two airfields near Palembang: Pangkalan Benteng, known as "P1" and a secret air base at Prabumulih (then Praboemoelih), known as "P2"]. From P2 we carried out raids on the Malayan Peninsula by flying up to the top end of Sumatra and landing at Medan. From here we refuelled and carried out night raids on Alor Setar, Singora [now known as Songkhla], Penang and other Jap bases, as well as carrying out recco patrols out in the China Sea, east of Singapore.
On the 14th of February one of our patrols located the large Jap convoy which attacked Sumatra. It consisted of approximately 25 merchant vessels with cruisers and destroyers escorting. Eleven Hudsons were dispatched to attack this convoy. I was in the first flight of three Hudsons to take off. We formed up and headed for the convoy in formation.
Three Hudsons in formation
While flying past the main aerodrome at Palembang, which was about 40 miles from ours, we saw a large number of Jap parachute troops being dropped on the aerodrome. However we flew on and located the enemy convoy about 100 miles northeast or Palembang. We were flying at 6,000 feet above a layer of broken cloud, and we could see the convoy below through the breaks. I lined up on the convoy for the attack and opening my bomb doors I dived through the cloud on the tail of the leader of the flight. I broke out of the cloud at 3,000 feet doing about 270 knots and selected a large transport as my target. I released my bombs at approximately 1,500 feet and pulled away to go back into the cloud. The ack‑ack was getting pretty thick at this time. As we pulled away my rear gunner reported that all four or my bombs had hit the Jap ship which had stopped and was listing to starboard. I claimed this ship as sunk or badly damaged.
Of the 11 Hudsons which attacked the convoy, six were shot down by approximately 25 Zero fighters which were over the convoy. A seventh Hudson was so badly damaged that it crash‑landed on P1 aerodrome right Into the middle of the Japanese paratroopers. The crew escaped.
The leader of my formation was shot down just after completing his bombing attack, but I managed to get back into the cloud and escape. On returning to P2, I found the aerodrome covered in a pall of smoke. My first thought was that it had been bombed, but on landing I found that demolitions were in progress, preparatory to evacuating the aerodrome. When I landed I was ordered to load up my aircraft with personnel and fly to Bandoeng in Java [now Bandung].
The weather was bad, and I was unable to get into Bandoeng, and landed at Batavia [now Jakarta] instead, going on to Bandoeng early next morning. On arrival at Bandoeng we were ordered to go back to P2 and help evacuate the rest of the ground personnel.
I arrived back at P2 about midday on the 15th of February and found there were still a few aircraft on the drome, and these were preparing to fly to Java. All aircraft that could fly had been evacuated by nightfall, with the remaining ground personnel being sent by road.
From Bandoeng our squadron was sent to Buitenzorg [now Bogor City] which is about 20 miles west of Batavia. We only remained there a few days and only did one operation from there. We were bombed and strafed several times while we were at Buitenzorg, and several aircraft were destroyed. From Buitenzorg we moved to Kalijati which was a big aerodrome between Bandoeng and the north coast of Java. We were stationed there when Java was attacked on the night of March 1st. I was in charge of a detachment of 1 Squadron with six Hudsons, only two of which were serviceable for operations, the other four having been badly holed in the tanks, and with unserviceable electrical gear.
The organisation of the Air Force was in a state of chaos at the time, and everyone had to look after themselves. I managed to get all the aircrew with me billeted with some Australian and English people at a little place called Subang, about twelve miles from Kalijati, while our ground staff lived in huts on the aerodrome.
There were about 30 Blenheims besides our six Hudsons on the drome, and those aircraft constituted practically the entire Air Force of the Far East at the time.
Bristol Blenheim
Of the thirty odd Blenheims only seven were serviceable, so on the night of March 1st, when the Japanese attacked Java, those seven Blenheims and two Hudsons were all we had to attack the huge convoy which was reported to consist of about 100 ships. This was about the time of the naval battle off Java when some of Australia’s warships were sunk [this is a reference to the Battle of the Java Sea].
Several enemy ships were hit during the night’s bombing and two Blenheims were lost. Japanese troops started to land on the coast of Java opposite Kalijati at 3 o'clock in the morning. We had orders that all aircraft were to be grounded and dispersed by daylight, as we expected to be severely bombed after dawn. I had been up all-night getting aircraft bombed up and refuelled and getting assessments of damage caused from returning crews. I phoned these reports through at regular intervals to Far East Headquarters, which was at Bandoeng.
By daylight all aircraft were dispersed and at 6.30am I received a report that the Japs were advancing rapidly inland towards the aerodrome. I immediately rushed Into Subang and picked up all the aircrew we had billeted there and brought them back to the drome. I left Subang with the aircrews at 7 o'clock In the morning and I heard afterwards the Japs entered Subang at about 7:30. On the way back to the drome we ran into groups of Dutch soldiers in the trees alongside the road.
By 9.30 in the morning we could hear firing coming from the direction of Subang. By 10.30 the firing had advanced towards the drome and was quite close, and the English CO of the Blenheims and myself were standing outside headquarters discussing the advisability of evacuating the aircraft to Bandoeng. We had just decided to get the aircraft out when a Jap scout on a motor bike with a tommy gun mounted on the handlebars dashed past headquarters and machine gunned us as he went by. Fortunately no one was hit, and we piled into our cars and followed the Jap onto the aerodrome. This Jap was apparently an advanced scout and, having driven straight through the main gate of the aerodrome, he was engaged in shooting up everyone in sight. Realising that he would be quickly followed by a larger force we decided to get the aircraft off as quickly as possible.
Fortunately I had enough transport for all my ground personnel, and as the firing drew closer and it was obvious that the small Dutch force could not hold the Japs, I had withdrawn my ground staff to the opposite end of the aerodrome, and had them standing by for further orders. I hopped out of my car and handed it over to one of my officers with orders to contact the ground personnel and tell them to proceed to Bandoeng by road, while I dashed onto the aerodrome to fly out one or our four Hudsons that would still fly. Our other two Hudsons had been previously destroyed in bombing attacks by the Japanese. I got the Hudson started and took off just as four Jap tanks and several truckloads of Jap troops came In the main gate of the aerodrome.
All four Hudsons got off OK, although one was damaged by machine gun fire from one of the Jap tanks. None of the Blenheims succeeded in getting off and all were captured or destroyed, although most of the Blenheim personnel escaped. All my ground staff arrived in Bandoeng safely.
I reported the state of affairs to Far East Headquarters and had great difficulty In getting them to believe my story, until the Blenheim squadrons arrived minus their aircraft.
By this time it was obvious to everyone that Java would fall in a few days as the Air Force had been virtually wiped out, and the Dutch army was being overwhelmed. Our CO, a couple of our senior officers and I put our heads together with a view to evacuating as many of our personnel to Australia as possible.
All available shipping had been sunk a few days previously in one of the harbours on the south Coast, so that was out of the question. Eventually a plan was submitted to Headquarters to fly out the three Hudsons that remained (one of the four having been destroyed by a heavy bombing attack) to Australia and endeavour to pick up the rest of the Australian personnel at a rendezvous on the south coast.
It was decided to attempt to fly from Bandoeng to Port Headland in Western Australia, a distance of about 1,200 nautical miles. We realised the Hudson with its normal tankage of 530 gallons could not do this distance, so a scheme was worked out whereby 100 extra gallons was carried in the cabin in four-gallon tins. The refuelling had to done in the air and was accomplished by knocking out a side window, reaching out and opening a wing tank. Next, we had a length of rubber tubing which was thrust out the window and into the tank, leaving one end inside the aircraft. The petrol was poured out of the four-gallon tins through a strainer and funnel and down the rubber tubing into the tank. In this way an extra 100 gallons’ fuel supply was available, and we considered that would just about get us to Australia.
We took off on the night of March 4th at 11 o'clock from Bandoeng, with our improvised fuel system worked very well, and we landed in Australia at 9.30 the next morning, 5th March. We had no maps for the trip across, and on siting the coast of Australia, we hadn't the faintest idea where we were, so we turned starboard along the coast. We only had about 50 gallons of petrol left and were anxious to find a landing ground as soon as possible. After about five minutes we found a small township with an aerodrome and landed. We found we were at Roebourne some 50 or 60 miles south of Port Headland.
Welcome to Roebourne
Map of the route from Bandoeng (now Bandung) to Roebourne Australia, and then on to Melbourne
We arrived In Melbourne on March 6th and immediately reported to Air Board where we were taken in to tell our story to Air Chief Marshal Burnett, who was then Chief of the Air Staff.
Air Chief Marshall Sir Charles Burnett
We asked if there was any hope of getting Catalina flying boats to go back to Java to try and evacuate some or our personnel. However, we found that most of the available Catalinas had been destroyed at Broom two days before we landed In Australia. We went to Civil Aviation to try to get the Empire Boats to attempt the hazardous trip, but we found that they were not capable of doing the distance.
We eventually had to give up as a bad job our attempts to get assistance to our comrades in Java, as nothing could be done about evacuating them.
And so ended an experience I shall never forget, my only regrets being for the brave young men who were killed and taken prisoners during that short and hectic three-month campaign.
While the following article was not part of Jack O’Brien’s journal, the newspaper report of the arrival of their plane in Roebourne makes for interesting reading (Northern Times (Carnarvon, WA), Friday 1 May 1942).
Escape from Java – 11-hour Blind Flight - R.A.A.F. Men Land At Roebourne
A vivid narrative of events which culminated in a dramatic 11-hour blind flight from Java to Australia after the Japanese occupation was told today by an R.A.A.F. flying officer who was recently on active service.
"When the enemy made his big bid for Java, one part of a huge convoy of about 50 ships headed East of Batavia and the other part for Surabaya”, he said. “The man in the moon was on our side because in the moonlight we were able to see clearly the whole foamy wake of the convoy at 7,000 feet. From 6pm until dawn we bombed that convoy and the Japanese losses have never been officially assessed because they occupied the place next day by sheer weight of numbers. Next day their motorcycle troops attacked our drome, and we were told that if we could get away from the island in any aircraft to do so.
"I ran out into the clear space of the aerodrome to a Hudson, while Japanese motorcyclists sniped me with tommy guns. Soon the Hudson was as full of bullet holes as a colander, but I got her into the air. Then I wheeled around and shot at a Japanese who had been having a go at me.
“We made a beeline for Australia at 11pm and were in the air for 11 hours. Nobody in our plane knew where we were, as we did not have as much as a map or a light. At about 10 o'clock in the morning, after refuelling in the air, we landed near a little hamlet. I walked cautiously down the main street and scanned a sign on a store. It read Roebourne. This was a name I did not know. Several children ran inside, evidently mistaking our plane for a Japanese aircraft. Then a policeman came up recognising us as Australians. I have neve been so glad to see an Australian policeman.”
Article re the crew landing in Roebourne
Northern Times (Carnarvon, WA), Friday 1 May 1942
Supply Dropping in New Guinea 1942 - 43
In the words of John Thomas O’Brien
On the 11th of December 1942, I was detailed to lead a flight of three Hudsons from Bairnsdale to Port Moresby, for supply dropping to our forward troops at Buna. In all, there were 15 Hudsons dispatched from No. 1 Operational Training Unit Bairnsdale for the Job.
We struck a fair amount of trouble on the trip up, with weather and unserviceability, but I arrived in Moresby on the 14th of December. Most of the other Hudsons were already there and had already done a couple of trips over the Gap [The Gap, also known as The Kokoda Gap, is roughly 18 kilometres wide with a 610 metre elevation drop at each end that forms a ‘gap’ in the Owen Stanley Range in New Guinea. During the Pacific War, the Kokoda Gap was used by Allied and Japanese aircraft crossing the Owen Stanley Range as a gap in the mountains for aircraft flying from the north coast to the south coast or vice versa].
On the 15th of December, I did my first trip. The round trip was regularly accomplished in about 1½ hours. The first few trips we were dropping supplies from the air and returning to Moresby without landing. However it was found that too much of the tinned food and other supplies that we were dropping were being damaged, so we asked for permission to land and unload our supplies. There were several landing strips, all natural clearings, with the kunai grass cut down and left on the strips. Some of these strips, although very short, were excellent to land on, being very soft and springy, and they pulled the aircraft up in time quite comfortably. These strips were situated some four or five miles behind the Jap lines at Buna.
Between the 15th of December 1942 and the 10th of January 1943, I completed 50 trips across the mountains to Buna with supplies, equipment and army personnel.
Of the 15 Hudsons which were operating, two were destroyed by enemy action, one we believe being shot down by ack‑ack and three of the crew killed, the other being shot down by Jap fighters. In addition to those losses, three other Hudsons were badly shot up by fighters. I fortunately did not encounter any fighter opposition. On several occasions when Jap fighters attacked the transports In the Buna area, I happened to be on the Moresby side of the mountains.
On the 12th of January 1943 we were informed that our job in New Guinea was finished, and we returned to our unit at Bairnsdale.
Operations in Liberators – New Guinea - 1944
In the words of John Thomas O’Brien
After completing a Liberator course with the Americans at Charters Towers In Queensland, I was posted with four other Australian crews to the 60th Heavy Bomber Squadron 43rd Bomb Group of the 5th Air Force, which was stationed at Dobodura, New Guinea.
RAAF Liberator WWII
On February the 13th I did my first raid in Liberators, going along with one of the American crews as a passenger. The target was Kavieng. There was no fighter opposition, and the ack‑ack was light and inaccurate.
On February the 15th I was again on a raid on Kavieng, this time in charge of the aircraft myself, with my all-Australian crew. Opposition was again very weak, and the airstrip was heavily bombed.
My next show was to be Kavieng again, but we ran into bad weather and attacked the secondary target which was Rein Bay near Cape Gloucester. Due to electrical failure my bombs would not release, although we pulled and pushed every knob in the aircraft. I eventually had to get two of my crew on the catwalk in the bomb bay and release the bombs by hand. To accomplish this, five runs over the target were necessary. This raid was carried out on the 21st of February.
On the 27th of February I did my first raid on Wewak, when we attacked one of the four airfields. The ack-ack was heavy and fairly accurate, but there was no fighter opposition.
All these raids had been carried out at high altitude, ranging from 10,000 to 18,000 feet. However, on my next raid on the 29th of February, we bombed from 4,000 feet. This was a raid on the Admiralty Islands, the morning they were invaded. [For more on the Admiralty Islands Campaign click here – the campaign started on the 29th of February 1944 and ran through to the 18th of May 1944, when the Allies re-took the Admiralty Islands from the Japanese. The largest of the Admiralty Islands is Manus].
We took off from Dobodura in the early morning and bombed Jap coastal positions along the shore, just before the attacking force landed. It was a grand sight to see the cruisers and destroyers standing offshore and heavily shelling the beach near Momote Airfield.
On March 2nd I was again on a raid on Wewak, the bombing was good and large fires were started. Ack‑ack was still heavy, but our fighter escort kept them too busy for them to attack us.
On March 7th I again visited the Admiralty Islands and bombed Jap Coastal Batteries. No opposition. The weather was bad and only five of the B24s got to the target. We had to fly through a tropical front for some 200 miles.
Between the 7th and 13th of March we were busy moving from Dobodura to Nadzab. On the 14th of March I was on the raid on Aitape, where both strips were heavily hit and rendered unserviceable.
On the 17th of March, also on the 22nd and 25th, I did three more raids on Wewak. Opposition had decreased, and on the last two raids not a shot was fired at the Liberators, and no fighters came up to intercept. These raids were now carried out at 10,000 feet. Large fires and heavy explosions were observed on each raid, and it is believed considerable damage was done.
On the night of the 27th of March I was detailed for a night raid on Hollandia [now Jayapura] which was now the number one target in New Guinea. We flew from Nadzab to Saidor, where we were briefed and took off for Hollandia about one o'clock in the morning. This raid was not a success, all the Liberators running into foul weather, and most of them did not reach the target.
Three days later on the 31st of March, I had my chance and went to Hollandia on the 2nd big daylight raid. It was one of the juiciest targets I have ever seen. Hundreds of Jap aircraft on the airfield with practically no dispersal. Great damage was done among these parked aircraft with fragmentation bombs, and scores of them were destroyed. Some 50 Jap fighters attempted interception, but our P38 escort heavily engaged them, and they failed to carry out any determined attacks on the Liberators. The ack‑ack was fairly heavy and accurate, but the bombing was perfect, the airfield being completely straddled with bombs.
This was my last operation with the Americans, and I left them with I hope, a mutual feeling of regret. Their Air Force in New Guinea is doing a wonderful job and the Jap Air Force there has been practically knocked out of existence.
Squadron Leader John Thomas (Jack) O’Brien (front and centre) with his crew in front of the Liberator they flew on the Kavieng raids in New Guinea. This photo was taken on 5 April 1944 after those raids.
During my three visits into operational areas I have completed 98 operational trips, 35 being in Singapore, 50 on transport in New Guinea, and 13 with the Americans, involving some 300 hours flying in operations.
You can read more about Jack and his exploits in WWII in these stories:
Written by John Thomas (Jack) O’Brien, additional material by Mary Zabell, with editing and photos by Rob Landsberry, last modified 14 February 2024