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Students of 20th century history know all about the heroic tales of World War II and the major and decisive battles of the Pacific Theater, like Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima.But in their new book, “Lucky 666: The Impossible Mission,” co-authors Tom Clavin and Bob Drury tell another story of the war in the Pacific—one that occurred early on when it was far from certain that things would go the way of the U.S. and its allies.
While this is one story that is virtually unknown, it turns out to be no less dramatic.
“Lucky 666” is the true tale of renegade pilot Captain Jay Zeamer and his crew of misfits, including bombardier Joe Sarnoski, who assembled both a plane and a plan for undertaking a daring solo operation against the Japanese Imperial Air Force in June 1943.
The ensuing one-sided air battle between Zeamer’s crew and a series of Japanese Zero fighters resulted in the longest dogfight in military aviation history. It also changed the course of the war in the Pacific for the Allies.
Recently, Sag Harbor’s Mr. Clavin sat down to talk about the book and the story, which he and Mr. Drury were introduced to by octogenarian Dick Bonelli, a Korean War veteran who was a source for their book “The Last Stand of Fox Company: A True Story of U.S. Marines in Combat.”
“He said, ‘It’s such a great story—nothing has been done on it,’” Mr. Clavin recalled. “‘You should look into it.’”
So look into it they did, and the authors realized this story of a daredevil captain, his motley crew and a nearly suicidal mission was worth telling—especially with the 75th anniversary of the attack of Pearl Harbor coming up this December.
In fact, the tale of Jay Zeamer and Joe Sarnoski begins in the months following Pearl Harbor when things weren’t looking at all good for the U.S. in the Pacific.
“In that first six months after Pearl Harbor, the Japanese controlled everything from Hawaii west, except for a little of New Guinea and Australia,” Mr. Clavin explained. “And Australia expected to be invaded any day.”
But the war in Europe was the top priority and in the Pacific, he noted, the Allies were ill-equipped and barely clinging to what little territory they had.
“Their equipment was second-hand and [General Douglas] MacArthur and the admirals had basically put together their forces with Scotch Tape,” Mr. Clavin said. “That’s when our two characters were sent over—Jay Zeamer, a pilot, and Joe Sarnoski, a bombardier.”
Mr. Zeamer and Mr. Sarnoski had met at training camp and were great friends. They were reunited in New Guinea, which had the only reasonably functioning airbase in the region outside of Australia.
On the surface, the pair had little in common. Mr. Zeamer had grown up middle-class in New Jersey, was an Eagle Scout and well-educated. He attended private school in Indiana and was an M.I.T. graduate.
Mr. Sarnoski, conversely, was one of 16 kids from a coal mining and farming family in Pennsylvania. While he was infatuated by planes, he had to wait until his siblings were old enough to help support the family before he could join the military.
“Jay was a renegade,” Mr. Clavin said. “He had a hard time with authority and was a great pilot—kind of a daredevil.
“The good news is he’d go on these missions and always bring his crew back. He had earned two Silver Stars for heroic action—but the bad news was no one wanted to fly with him.
“In New Guinea, he couldn’t get a plane to fly because a lot of his planes had been damaged and couldn’t be replaced.”
Ironically, it turned out that Mr. Zeamer’s unique skill set and his unconventional style were exactly what was required given the situation at hand. His commanding officer challenged Mr. Zeamer by telling him that if he could find a plane, he could fly it.
Mr. Zeamer did find a plane—a badly damaged B-17 that had been abandoned at the end of the runway at the Allied airbase on New Guinea. He also found a crew of oddballs and military misfits to work with him. Together, they rebuilt the plane using spare parts in the base’s junkyard and named it Old 666 after its original tail identification numbers.
One important upgrade, however, was the number of machine guns on board.
“The typical B-17 had nine to 11 machine guns,” Mr. Clavin noted. “When they were done, it had 19. It was the most heavily armed bomber in the Pacific.”
Mr. Zeamer and his crew soon got the opportunity to test their rebuilt plane—and their nerve—when the call came for a volunteer mission to Bougainville in the Solomon Islands and the heart of Japanese territory.
“The top brass realize the key to putting the Japanese on the defensive and opening corridors to Tokyo is taking the Solomon Islands,” Mr. Clavin said. “They’re doing that until Bougainville—the one island the Japanese still held and had since before the beginning of the war.
“The Allies knew nothing about it,” he added. “If the Marines invade, what’s the best spot? Are there barrier reefs to stop the boats? What’s the topography?”
The commanders needed detailed photographs to make a plan for invasion and put out the call for a reconnaissance run to Bougainville. It was a 1,200-mile round-trip suicide mission for a single bomber, and Mr. Zeamer and his team eagerly agreed to do it.
At the time, Mr. Sarnoski had flown his maximum number of missions. His bags were already packed and he was headed home. But when Mr. Zeamer’s copilot came down with malaria, Mr. Sarnoski delayed his departure and volunteered to go along on the mission.
At 4 a.m. on June 16, 1943, Old 666 took off for Bougainville—but what Mr. Zeamer and his crew didn’t realize was that the night before, the Japanese had reinforced the island with two dozen Zero fighters.
“When they get to Bougainville, they’re taking pictures. They go across the airfield and see all those planes,” Mr. Clavin said. “They were told there weren’t any. Then they see them taxiing down the runway—five, 10, 15, 20 planes—all against one American bomber.”
The highly sensitive nature of photography in those days meant the crew had to stay on a steady course over the island. Though Mr. Zeamer and the others could see the Japanese planes heading their way, they didn’t deviate until the photographer gave them the OK.
“Then they try to head back to base with the Zeros on them,” Mr. Clavin said. “What transpired was the longest dog fight in aviation history.”
While Old 666 was greatly outnumbered, Mr. Clavin noted the 19 machine guns gave the crew a fighting chance—barely. The damage was brutal. The cockpit of the plane was blown up and both of Mr. Zeamer’s legs were broken. During the attack, Mr. Sarnoski was hit and fell dead onto his gun—his final action set off a round of bullets that stopped a Japanese plane.
“He brought down a plane after he was dead,” Mr. Clavin said. “After 40 minutes the Japanese planes had to turn around or they wouldn’t have enough fuel to get back.”
Old 666 almost didn’t make it back either. The landing gear was gone, the navigation system fried and all the crew members hit. Mr. Zeamer himself was quickly losing blood and barely conscious. Because the cockpit was exposed from the attack, it was freezing and his blood coagulated. That probably kept him from bleeding to death.
Mr. Zeamer ultimately lost 50 percent of his blood. But the film made it back, was developed and analyzed. A short time later, the Allies invaded Bougainville.
“They took the whole Solomon Islands and that was the turning point of the war,” Mr. Clavin said. “Jay and Joe were awarded the Medal of Honor and everyone else received a Distinguished Service Cross.”
Of course, Mr. Sarnoski never saw his medal. He was buried on New Guinea and Mr. Zeamer spent the next year in and out of hospitals. For the rest of his life, he struggled with his damaged legs.
Jay Zeamer died in 2008 and much of his story, as well as that of Joe Sarnoski, came courtesy of family members who provided Mr. Clavin and Mr. Drury with background information and personal memories. Mr. Clavin said he finds that World War II stories are getting much harder to tell as memories fade and those who lived it become fewer and fewer.
But he added that one of the most astonishing postscripts to this particular story came over half a century after the mission to Bougainville.
The year was 1995, the 50th anniversary of VJ Day, and Jay Zeamer was attending commemorative ceremonies at Pearl Harbor as an honored guest. Not far from Pearl Harbor, noted Mr. Clavin, is a national military cemetery known as the Punchbowl that contains more than 33,000 graves.
“There’s a point in the ceremony where Jay was not needed anymore, so he starts walking through the Punchbowl,” Mr. Clavin said. “He gets tired and needs to rest, so he puts his hand on a headstone.
“Then he realizes its Joe’s,” he added. “They had reburied him in Hawaii and he never knew.”
It’s the kind of ending you couldn’t make up if you tried—but in hindsight, somehow it seems totally fitting for the unbelievable story of Jay Zeamer and his courageous crew.
“Lucky 666: The Impossible Mission” was released by Simon & Schuster on October 25. Tom Clavin will talk about the book on Saturday, November 5, at 5 p.m. at Canio’s Books, 290 Main Street, Sag Harbor.
on Oct 25, 2016