 Soldiers of the press. This week, bombers over high-fung. Operational for Sunday, order issued from Bomber Command to 15th Bombardment Group. To all staff and squadron commanders, a raid in force will be made on the Japanese-held port of high-fung. Clearing air-drome at 0700. Signed Brigadier General Claire Cheneau. That operational was of exceptional interest to United Press staff correspondent Robert P. Martin. Assigned to a U.S. Army Bomber Command Headquarters base in China. This is his eyewitness account of the first great raid on high-fung. The strongest naval base in Jap-held Indochina. From an advanced base in Yunnan, I flew with a group of American bombers when they sank their first ocean-going Japanese vessel from this base and then plastered the entire waterfront of high-fung. It was 0600 when we piled out of bed for the final briefing. Six o'clock in the morning. We had to feel our way into the blacked-out headquarters building where the last discussion of the raid was to be held. I just barely managed to get a cup of coffee under my belt before the briefing started. You awake yet, Bob? Just about. I don't see why you guys can't arrange to hold this war to more civilized hour. I'll speak to the general about it. And better grab yourself a seat. We're gonna start. All right, gentlemen. All right, gentlemen. We'll start now. Be seated. Ta-da! I'll have to presume that most of you are awake. I don't hear any snoring. But just to make certain that you stay awake, I'll ask you to take notes. Now, we discussed the preliminary details last night, so I needn't go over the formation again. However, let me review briefly. The first squadron will form the leading element of the group formation. The Hellcat squadron will form the second element. And the Tarpat squadron will form the rear element. That's you, Hank. No roving around looking for a fight. Now, combat orders. Group assembly after takeoff will be over reference point eight to five thousand feet. Wedge formation at zero seven hundred ten. The route out will be direct. Route back direct. Method of attack will be plan A. Major altitude and command. Maneuver after attack. All squadrons turn right and assemble on group commander. Any questions? What do we do if we get separated? I'll get to that in a minute, Jinx. Now about the anti-aircraft evasive tactics. We can expect a certain amount of flag. The briefing went on for about half hour or so, and various reports kept coming in while we all sat there eating our breakfast with one hand and taking notes with the other. It's really amazing how much preparation and planning goes into a bomber raid, but it all pays off. Our bombers and their crews keep coming home as a result. Finally, the briefing was over. We knew when the commander said, Check your watches in exactly fifteen seconds. It'll be zero six hundred fifty. In ten seconds. In five seconds. Check. All right. Good hunting. Good hunting, team. Let's go. I was assigned to the big bomber of Lieutenant C.H. Hagan of Jacksonville, Florida. We had a brief conversation before going out in the flying field. He told me what to watch for on our way to the target and during the bombing. Then we went aboard the bomber, and I was given a pair of earphones and allowed to plug in on the plane's interphone and radio circuit while the pilots warmed up the motors. Radio 607 testing. Army 49607 testing. Can you hear me, Tower? Can you hear me? Yes, I hear you 49607. I hear you very well. That frequency is very good. Okay, thank you. Radio is hot skipper any time now. Okay, Vince. Pilot to navigator. Everybody aboard? Yes, give up. Check off everybody. Front to rear. How many are here, sir? All right, you gotta hear, sir. Navigate to present. Radio here, sir. They'll get aboard, sir. How about the press? You all set, Martin? All set here. Okay, thank you. Ready, co-pilot? Ready. Oil pressure is up on both. Okay. Unlock tail wheel. Standby brakes. Pilot to radio. Transmit me. Go ahead. The Troll Tower from Army 49607. Tower from Army 49607. Request taxi and take-off clearance. Acknowledge. Army 49607 from Tower. Clear to taxi to number one runway. Take-off when ready. Clear to taxi and take-off. Go ahead. We'll go. Roger. Hang on to your hat, Martin. We're on our way to Haifang. It was a wonderful day for bombing Japs. The sunshine was brilliant. The sky was blue as it only can be over the arid China mountains. The drone of the motors and the dull, endless landscape made me very drowsy. I must have been asleep for quite a while when the sound of voices in my earphones woke me up. Pilot to navigator, how we doing? Moving 22. No perceptible dress. Right. The estimated time of arrival was 20 minutes. The bomber crew began to sit up and take notice. So did I. I moved over just below Gunner Sergeant at Roads of Kansas City and watched him checking over his machine guns. He handled them like a mother with a two-week-old baby. Then he draped 50-pound belts of machine gun bullets around his neck like a pearl necklace. I had to move away because the loose ends kept swinging into my face. Pilot here, keep a sharp watch for fighter opposition, everybody. Let me know if you see anything. I went back and watched the navigator, Lieutenant Olsen, Edgar Peck of Georgetown, Texas. He was putting away his instruments and setting behind another machine gun. He winked at me and patted the belts of ammunition. Over my earphones, I could hear the rear gunner swearing to himself from time to time. He said that he also was trying to get comfortable behind a machine gun. Right about then, I began wishing I had a machine gun myself. Two gangsters coming in fast from 6 o'clock. Underneath, watch them, Charlie. I'll watch them tell you. Gangsters are Jeff Pursuit ships. An angle of 6 o'clock is directly a stern. I flopped down on the passageway like a ton of brick and tried to remember if my insurance policy covered things like this. Here he comes, Charlie. Give him a good one. I'm on him. Come on, Tojo. Come and get it. Up to you. Hit him. Right. Right in that kiss. There he goes. Looks very discouraged from here. Where's the other one, Charlie? He went further down the line, I think. Yeah, they got him. All clear, Skipper. Nice work, you guys. We're coming in now. We'll be bombing from 20,000 so you better take some oxygen. Hey, Martin, is the United Press still with us? Yeah, I'm still here. Anybody want to trade a machine gun for a portable typewriter? In college, they always told me words were bullets. Better put on your oxygen mask now. We're going up and you'll need some lung juice in your blood if we have to bail out. Okay, but give me a couple of weeks' notice before I have to jump with you. I'll try. Stand by, everybody. Get me stood by the bomb compartment so that I can look down and see what was underneath when the bomb door's open. Planet to bomb, my dear. Leading element is moving to the left. They must be on. Can you see anything yet? Yes, Skipper. I can see the high-fung water works about three miles ahead and to the left. Better get set. Okay. Take over. Bomb door's open. The heavy bomb doors swung open slowly. Far below, I could see the waterfront of high-fung. Then, suddenly, the air was filled with little black puffs of smoke that went slowly drifting by. I realized the anti-aircraft flak batteries of the Japanese had gone into action. API is on. How do you want it, Bombardier? As she goes. Altitude 20,000. Check. 20,000. Check. Ground speed 170. Check. 170. Check. It's all yours. By now, the flak had become very thick, although I couldn't hear it at all. It looked as though it was quite far down and harmless. Oh, and then brilliant tracer bullets went past silently like red ribbons in the sky. I could see that we were getting over the busiest part of the harbor. Left one, two degrees, Skipper. Like that. That's fine. Steady. Ride a trifle. Steady. Steady. Bombs away. I stood there beside the bomb racks and watched the big 500-pounders go streaming out silently and deadly. They almost seemed suspended in the air. I could see the little propeller on the tip of each bomb wind itself off the shaft, thus arming the bomb to explode on contact. For a while, they drifted along under the plane like little fish swimming in a bowl. Finally, I couldn't see them anymore. Then suddenly, there were great mushrooms of fire and smoke everywhere on the docks below. Then a roaring burst of flame and oily black smoke seemed to come almost up to our plane itself. And the concussion rattled us around like peas in a pot. Must have been an oil tank. Nice shooting, bombardier. All bombs gone? All gone, Skipper. Then what do you say we go down and shoot them up a bit? How about it, gunners? That's for me, Skipper. Oh, boy. Okay, hang on. Here we go. I'd already had all the fun I wanted for one day, but the boys wanted to show me a good time, so we went down to a couple of hundred feet off the ground, went roaring up and down the waterfront, shooting everything in sight. No, thanks. I'll just watch. It's all right with you. Okay, no skin off my back. We went out like that for 20 minutes or so. By the time we got through, there wasn't much JAP equipment left in High Fong Harbor without bullet holes in it. Finally, the ammunition began to run low and the bombers headed for home. We were still 20 minutes away from our base when the starboard engine began to sputter. I'd been writing up my notes on the raid, but I suddenly decided to pay more attention to what was going on at the moment. Pilot here. Stand by, everybody. We may be running into trouble. Radio. Transmit me. Oh, yes, Skipper. Red leader from Army 49607. Red leader from Army 49607. Acknowledge. Army 49607 to Red Leader. Go ahead. My number one engine is failing. Can't keep up with the formation. We'll try to come in, but may have to make emergency landing. See you later. Okay, Army 49607. Keep horsing it. Good luck. Thank you. For that, we spart off and went out of the formation. A mighty lonely feeling to see the other bombers gradually pull out of sight ahead. A fierce tropical storm shut down all around us. We were alone somewhere over North China, the most desolate country in the world. Pilot here. All hands put on parachutes and stand by to abandon ship. The gas gauges weren't working properly and the engines might cut out at any moment. We were flying blind by this time and the ship was rocking from side to side in sudden flurries of rain and wind. No one said anything, but none of us felt too happy about the idea of jumping out at the grey blank that was everywhere below us. Pilot here. I'm going down and trying to find a hole in these cloud banks. I level off at 12,000 or less. And if we hit a clear spot, I'll try for an emergency. If I can't make it, I'll give you the word and you'll bail out. The newspaper man goes first. Good luck, everybody. We went down slowly, trying not to lose any more altitude than we had to. The navigator helped me on with my parachute and checked the fastenings, then gave me quick instructions on what to do when I jumped. We shook hands. Pilot here. Looks like a break in the clouds up ahead. Keep a shot. Look out, everybody. I'm going through. See anything only? Yeah, I think so, Skipper. That crooked moth is not our enterald landmoth in the May West. I think it is. Sure it is. We're home. A few moments we could make out our base. We managed to get in before the gas ran out and the motors conked out completely. Hagen made a perfect landing and when we crawled out of the ship, the boys who had gotten in ahead of us gathered around a wisecrack about walking home and to pound us on the back as a sign that they were glad to see us again. Before I started writing my account of the raid, I looked in on General Cheneau in operations headquarters. He told me... Every plane returned safely from Haifeng. We hit the shipping where it hurt. It was a good show, Martin. And it was a good story, too. All together, the bomber flight rained 14 tons of demolition bombs and incendiaries over the shipping and dock installations. One bomber piloted by Lieutenant Colonel Herbert Morgan of Freedom Pennsylvania sank a 15,000-ton Jap ship and between us, the rest of the flight managed to sink or damage several smaller ships. When we left Haifeng, we could see the fires we had started until we were 80 miles away. Yes, it was a good show. I'm glad I went along. I'll have to confess I'm also pretty well pleased about getting back. Like Robert P. Martin, many United Press correspondents on every fighting front are braving gunfire or capture, facing tension, hardship and danger. They carry no rifles or machine guns, these U.P. men, but their duty is as great and honorable as that of the fighting men they accompany. For their task is to get the news and send it back to their countrymen. We will be back soon with another story of these soldiers of the press. Be sure to listen. And meantime, listen for United Press news on the air. Look for United Press dispatches in your favorite newspaper. It is your guarantee of the world's best coverage of the world's biggest news.