USS Suwannee Anti Submarine Patrol
Mindful of the vulnerability of the warships to undersea predators, antisubmarine patrols constantly occupied the aviators. Ensign Benton J. Skuda from the Suwannee took off in the late afternoon of February 27,1943, with his crew of Gunner John Boosalis and Radioman Lawrence O'Neal, for a routine AS patrol. For an hour they simulated bombing and torpedo attacks on the task force before heading out to their assigned sector. As Skuda maneuvered the TBF for a meeting with the Suwannee some 4 miles away, the engine suddenly quit and refused to restart.
"I jettisoned the bombs and all hands prepared for a forced landing at sea," said Skuda. "The bombs dropped from about 500 feet and exploded well clear. I closed the bomb bay doors and put down my naps. The wind was about 10 knots and the landing was effected comfortably. On landing, we launched our rubber life raft and procured sundry articles from the plane before it sank."
After getting clear of the drowning aircraft, the crew took inventory. Their possessions included two parachutes, a pistol, ten eleven-ounce cans of water, and one standard-issue canteen full of water. They had twenty-four cans of emergency food—Spam in a can—five Hershey chocolate bars, seven cans of malted-milk tablets, one can of crackers, and a first-aid kit. The latter held four tins of battle dressing, four sulfa packages, iodine, six morphine syrettes, a tube of chlorine tablets for water purification, tannic acid jelly, energy tablets, and capsules containing spirits of ammonia.
The first night drifting in the sea, Skuda said, no one slept. With the stars as a reference, they set a course for an island they deemed to be about 25 miles away. Paddling with oars and using a sea anchor, the downed airmen figured they had traveled 5 miles. Both of his crew retched after swallowing saltwater. When day broke, a dead calm, under a torrid sun, settled over the area. "We took turns manning the oars," reported Skuda, "and fairly good progress was made. Although we opened a few tins of rations, we couldn't force the food down and it eventually spoiled. Because of continuous rowing and hot sun, we required much water, and as our supply was limited, I systematically rationed out small quantities. By noon, a shark that was following us disappeared and Boosalis and I got into the water and tried to push the boat along while O'Neal rowed. This did not work out successfully and we went back to our original plan."
That night a strong wind whipped up the sea, pushing the raft back toward the open sea. To defeat the elements, the trio set up a rotation of two at the oars while one rested. "Our water being very critically low," said the ensign, "our bodies became dehydrated, and our mouths were very dry. Even though this strenuous work called for more water, we had to be satisfied with merely wetting our tongues. We kept this up all night, several times almost giving up from fatigue. The next morning found us still rowing but with little enthusiasm. Our hands were badly blistered and our skin was inflamed from the hot sun, but this was only secondary to our thirst. "All the previous night we were kept going mainly by the thought of cold mountain springs that we could duck our head into once we reached the island. We were sadly disappointed. By noon the wind luckily changed, helping us along with the make-shift sail we rigged up. In mid-afternoon we maneuvered our boat through the breakers and touched shore, too dejected to experience any joy.
"On the beach we found two small coconuts and drank the last few ounces of our water. Too tired to move we spread out on the beach but found we couldn't sleep. Our thirst was more acute than our tiredness. We set out in search of water. We left our boat and other articles on the beach, taking with us our rations, first aid kit, empty water canteen and a strip of parachute that could be used as a netting against insects. Walking along the beach was very difficult. It was [a] jagged lava bed, full of holes, gullies and cliffs. After a few hours of walking, we observed that many holes contained stagnant water, and on tasting several, we found, much to our relief, that they were free from salt. These puddles had been formed by a recent rainfall. Even though the water was stagnant and had a strong taste of lime, we filled our canteen and added chlorine tablets from our first aid kit. Then we drank to our hearts content. The effect of water produced extreme fatigue and tiredness but not hunger. In fact we could not eat food of any available kind. We stretched out on the beach and soon fell asleep."
On the following morning, the men began a search for fresh water and perhaps civilization. Because of their swollen, blistered, and lacerated feet, they trekked at a slow pace. The razor-sharp lava rock slit open their shoes, requiring them to use their parachute shroud lines to bind them. Salt that clung to their clothes irritated their sunburned skin. Blisters and sores blossomed. They noticed, lurking amid the lava, numerous highly poisonous coral snakes. Steep cliffs along the beach eventually forced them to try to penetrate a jungle. But cliffs and dense undergrowth blocked their progress. By nightfall they again faced a critical shortage of water. Too exhausted to return to the beach, they bedded down for a sleepless, insect-hectored night.
In the morning they retreated back to the beach, climbing down from a cliff using vines for the descent. The aviators discovered a cave that gave respite from the pitiless sun and set up camp there. For a day they rested their sore, cut feet, sleeping much of the time. "The second day in the cave," said Skuda, "our first pangs of hunger were felt. We opened a few tins of rations and killed and roasted a crab found on the beach. We decided to go back to our point of landing, uncover our boat and paddle along the shore line. We noticed the hot sun was rapidly drying up the fresh water puddles." The boat trip, however, gave them their first hopes of rescue. That afternoon, they came across a beach that appeared to have been used for fishing. Stopping there, the airmen scouted about until they found a path leading inland. It led to a garden with orange, lime, lemon, and papaya trees.
"With the green fruit we gathered from the trees," reported Skuda, "and a few more crabs found along the shore, we succeeded in having quite a nourishing meal. We stayed overnight but a steadily falling rain prevented us from getting much sleep. That night heavy seas and breakers came up, barring progress along the beach the next day. During the night, salt water spray ruined most of our fresh water puddles, except those that were further inland. We stayed here two days in all. As our water was again diminishing rapidly, we had to hurry to reach our boat, which we estimated was about seven miles along the shore.
"A few hours after starting the return journey to our boat, we ran across a native on the beach who was searching for his lost pigs. He proved to be very friendly and that afternoon took us to his village. There we were treated very hospitably by the natives. We were fed, bathed and had our clothes washed. In their gardens the natives had food and fruits of all sorts. That evening a few natives returned from the hunt brought back a wild bullock and a wild pig. "During the evening natives from other villages came to see us. Some of them knew a little English and consequently were able to get the gist of our story. We learned from the natives that we were on Eromonga Island, in the New Hebrides group. We also learned that an Australian rancher was living on the other end of the island. After living in the native village for a few days, several native guides escorted us to his home. We arrived there still in very bad physical condition, and it took most of our stay to get our wounds under control."
During the second week at the Australian rancher's home, Skuda's shipmates broke out with serious cases of malaria. Their host, however, proved skilled at treatment, and he fed them well. On March 26, 1943 a month after they had taken off, a small inter-island cutter that toted supplies to the rancher learned of their presence. It forwarded the information to a district commissioner on another island. He radioed Naval Headquarters, and two days later a seaplane retrieved the trio.
"Wings of Gold" by Gerald Astor