The Skip Does It

Above the thin shimmering water-slash of a rising moon, a U.S. Flying Fortress thundered into the Jap harbor at Rabaul one night several months ago to make the first test in the South Pacific of a new technique--"skip-bombing."

Just above masthead height, the bomber headed for a fat freighter at the end of the moonbeam, rode up close with bomb doors open, flipped a pair of bombs. From that low altitude the bombs did not have time to point down. Instead they struck the water, still with more forward than downward momentum, skittered across the waves like a stone skipped by a small boy, struck the side of the freighter, settled in the water. The target belched two livid bursts of flame and a tall column of water licked at the Fortress' high tail as it thundered overhead.

The first test had been a success. When the Fortress swung back, the ship was gone in a moonslick littered with wreckage. The raider made for a cruiser, splashed three bombs into the water not a hundred feet from her, saw them hurtle to her side, watched her heel over in a spreading pool of oil after the bombs burst. A searchlight beam burst from the shore, probed high in the sky. A few A.A. guns chattered. But the Fortress was clean away. Climbing to 5,000, she dropped her last bombs on a seaplane tender in the harbor's heart and streaked for home, while her crew made to one another the circle with thumb and third finger which means: "It's good."

Since then skip-bombing has become a standard for the Fifth Air Force of Lieut. General George Kenney. And every time it brings in returns, Kenney's airmen thank a cheerful, extroverted major named William G. Benn, of Washington, Pa.

Bill Benn was a flying archeologist in Persia in 1938 when he decided to join the Air Forces. He went to Australia as aide to George Kenney, forthwith began his first experiment on skip-bombing when he had heard the R.A.F. was using it.

Its advantages were obvious to raiders screened by darkness or thick weather. Flying low toward a target, a bomber has only to land his missile close by, and if it is aimed in the right direction, it cannot overshoot the mark.

In those days in the Southwest Pacific, much was done by trial & error. There was no low-altitude bombsight. Bill Benn improvised one by riding in the nose of a Fortress, marking crosses on the bombardier's plexiglass windshield until he got what he wanted. Then he made a few runs against an old hulk stranded off Port Moresby, found that his marks were good enough for accurate sights.

First, delay fuses--to make the bomb detonate below the waterline--were improvised with the help of the Royal Australian Air Force. They have now been replaced by the real thing. Meanwhile Bill Benn had explained his technique to his superiors, had beamed from large, humorous hazel eyes when he was told he had better lead the first raids himself.

Since then he has been on many. Best record is three cargo ships, two light cruisers and three destroyers sunk with 30 bombs. Bill Benn himself holds the D.S.C. for being our in front when 100,000 tons of Jap shipping were sunk.

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