Jack Dougherty with his Stinson L-5.Courtesy of Michael Dougherty/Supplied
Michael Dougherty is a writer based in Whitehorse.
In the spring of 1945, Master Sergeant Jack Dougherty, a U.S. military pilot, was flying his Stinson L-5 loaded with empty plasma bottles along the coast of Burma. His small two-seat aircraft was nicknamed the “Flying Jeep” for its versatility. In the days before helicopters, this lightweight, treated cotton, plywood and metal tubing plane possessed amazing short takeoff and landing capabilities that made it invaluable in the Burma campaign. Dougherty’s 127th Liaison Squadron of L-5s supported front-line troops as air ambulances and by performing reconnaissance, as well as providing critical resupply and personnel movement.
On that day, the airspace was supposedly clear of any enemy activity for his return flight to his base at Akyab, Burma (now Sittwe, Myanmar), from a front-line airstrip hacked out of the jungle. A sudden gust of wind buffeted his plane. This caused a sideward motion that swung his L-5′s tail out. This brief, chance blast of air allowed him to catch sight of a much faster Japanese A6M Zero fighter approaching with its flaps and wheels down. The enemy pilot wanted to slow his plane as much as possible for an anticipated shot at a close, fatal range.
Jack immediately rolled his L-5 over and dropped it sharply toward the waters of the Bay of Bengal. His unarmed L-5 pulled up from the dive, belly upward, just a few feet above the waves. This show of his total vulnerability and submission must have impressed the Zero’s pilot. Whether motivated by an ancient warrior code or simply fed up with the war’s slaughter, the Japanese pilot disengaged. Jack’s life was spared by this act of mercy.
Jack Dougherty's Stinson L-5. The aircraft was nicknamed the 'Flying Jeep' for its versatility.Courtesy of Michael Dougherty/Supplied
A fluke of nature together with Jack’s quick thinking kept him flying. His service record would eventually include missions such as taking Edwina Mountbatten, Countess Mountbatten of Burma, and other notables, such as the journalist Fred Friendly, to the front, and carrying stretcher-bound wounded combatants from the front lines to hospitals in the rear. He also co-piloted C-47s over the “Hump” (the Himalayas) on supply runs from India into China while damaged L-5s from his squadron were being repaired after a typhoon destroyed his air base. For his military service, his decorations included the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal with Oak Leaf clusters.
Toward the war’s end in August, 1945, the 127th Liaison Squadron left India and was ordered to move into position in the Philippines in preparation for the invasion of Japan. The horrific atomic-bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki made an invasion unnecessary. Jack and his unit made it home in early 1946.
Katy and Jack Dougherty married in Aiken, S.C., where Jack was stationed before he received orders to ship out.Courtesy Michael Dougherty/Michael Dougherty
Over the next 33 years, he would father seven children with his wife Katy, build a business, and work countless hours providing for them. His leather flight jacket and uniform were tucked away in a cedar closet. These were objects of curiosity for his children, coming out occasionally for Halloween or school plays.
Jack also had a box that held odds and ends from his military days, such as the plug-in radio crystal from his plane, the only tangible remaining physical link to his L-5. Among other items was a booklet in Japanese with rice-paper notes in it. At rare times, an inquisitive child would examine it while rummaging in the box. Somehow, we came to believe it was a “prayer” book. How had my father gotten it and why did he keep it? This remained a mystery to us.
Now, nearly 80 years after Jack’s war ended, the booklet, which has survived many moves, made it to my desk in Whitehorse, Yukon. Again, chance would intervene. I serve on the board of Yukon Cares, a community-based refugee support group here in the Yukon. Fumihiko Torigai, former head of the Japanese Canadian Association of Yukon, sits on the Yukon Cares board as well. For some reason, while sorting through my files I came across the “prayer” booklet again just before a Yukon Cares meeting, which prompted me to tell Fumi about it.
Writer Michael Dougherty, right, with Fumihiko Torigai, at the Whitehorse Public Library.Michael Dougherty/Michael Dougherty
Fumi asked to see it. He informed me that it was not a prayer book but rather a book used by a young soldier in his preparations to become an army officer. The important discovery, though, was that it included the name of the soldier and some personal notes.
We had a name, Kameji Wakuta. Fumi contacted the Japan Bereaved Family Association in Tokyo. This organization deals with matters concerning Japanese soldiers and sailors who died or went missing in action. Once informed, they immediately sought out information on this young soldier. It took months, but they discovered that he came from the Kyoto Prefecture. Furthermore, the official word was that he had been killed in battle in Burma on Jan. 12, 1945.
Given the brutal nature of jungle warfare it is not inconceivable that this would have been the sum total of the information that the family had ever received about their loved one. Had Kameji Wakuta been involved in the earlier Japanese offensive in the spring of 1944 that saw their forces invade northeastern India? The Japanese targeted Imphal, the capital of the state of Manipur in northeastern India. The British National Army Museum has named the little-known Battles of Imphal and Kohima as Britain’s greatest battle of all time. This gruelling campaign, which some historians label the Stalingrad of the East, marked a turning point of the Second World War in this part of the world.
After the Allied victory there, the Japanese were forced to retreat. They were being relentlessly pushed back into Burma. My father was part of this offensive when his incident over the Bay of Bengal occurred. One of the tasks my father had during this campaign was flying the wounded back to medical care in the rear. Had this young Japanese soldier, thought to have been killed in action, actually been wounded and captured alive in January, 1945? The 127th Liaison Squadron would also occasionally take captured Japanese soldiers back for intelligence interrogation. Had this been where my father’s path crossed with his?
Had Kameji’s booklet fallen out of his uniform, or had it been purposefully discarded in Jack’s L-5 while he was being evacuated? Is this how my father came to have Kameji’s booklet? Why did he keep it? We will never know.
What we do know is that the Kyoto Prefectural Bereaved Families Association has found Kameji Wakuta’s family. The booklet has made the long trip to Kyoto and will be in their hands by this Remembrance Day. This small, tangible piece of a lost soldier’s life might provide one family with some comfort and solace.
In a note sent along to the Wakuta family with the booklet, our family wrote, “It is with heartfelt sympathy that we return these documents to your family. Our father bore the burden of the war, physically and mentally, for the rest of his life. He died in 1979.” Hopefully they are now both at peace.
The wounds of war last. This reminds us all that striving for peace should be our priority now as much as 80 years ago.
This article has been updated to clarify that Jack Dougherty was a U.S. military pilot.