October 30, 1944: Saipan, Marianas Islands:
It was a crisp morning on October 30, 1944, when Major James Slocum taxied "Clouting Claudia," his newly-assigned B-29 Superfortress, off the runway at Isley Field on Saipan. He had completed his crucial work in Kansas, addressing the issues with the Boeing plant, and now he stood at the doorstep of a new chapter in the Pacific theater. The hastily constructed airfields dominated the landscape on the recently conquered islands of Saipan and Tinian and the work had started almost immediately after the Marines & Army had finished clearing the last of the Japanese defenders from the islands. The islands had been seized specifically to house the B-29s: from here the USAAF was finally in reach of the Japanese home islands, thanks to their new bases in the Marianas and the long range of their brand-new bombers.
After having bid a tearful farewell to Rose Winfield, the woman he held dear and who had played a pivotal role in the Battle of Kansas, James eagerly embraced his new assignment. General Hap Arnold had kept his promise and assigned James to the 869th Bombardment Squadron. At Pratt Army Air Field in Kansas, James got acquainted with his new crew, a group of skilled and dedicated individuals ready to face the challenges ahead. The B-29 was an impressive engineering feat and James was now as familiar with the big bomber as anyone outside of Boeing itself.
"Clouting Claudia," the B-29 that would carry James and his crew into the heart of combat, was adorned with the name he had chosen, a homage to his mother, Claudia. She had been less than thrilled about James returning to combat, but he couldn't help but honor her through the name of his aircraft. Back in Kansas, James had told Rose he wanted to name his bomber Riveting Rosie, but she refused.
"Name it after your mother," she told him firmly. "I told you I don't like that Rosie the Riveter stuff."
"My mother? I love her, but..." James had gotten tongue-tied. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might love Rose. But he discovered he wasn't quite able to say so out loud.
"But what?" she shot back, hands on hips. "Someone ought to clout you with a rolling pin," she finished, clearly exasperated.
"That's it!" James had exclaimed. "Clouting Claudia!"
Rose grinned wickedly. "Your mother ever clout you with a rolling pin, Jim?" she asked.
He waved a hand and said, "Of course not. But we'll be clouting the enemy, so that's a great name." He kissed her on the cheek and said, "Thanks Rosie!"
The journey from Kansas to Saipan had been grueling, spanning over 6,500 nautical miles. James and his crew had endured long flights, harsh weather, and the ever-present dangers of the war. Landing at Isley Field, they discovered that they were the last B-29 to arrive, joining their squadron just as it had completed its first mission—an audacious night attack on the Japanese submarine pens on Truk Island.
James spent the next day getting acquainted with the crew chief and the rest of the ground crew. He was a firm believer in getting to know the men who kept his aircraft maintained. And when the ground crew found out he knew as much about maintaining the B-29 as they did, they took to him right away. Their only point of contention turned out to be that they liked the bright silver fuselage while James was a proponent of the green paint that had adorned his B-17 back in England.
"Green stands out against the sky, sir," the crew chief told him. The sergeant, from a small town in Iowa, knew his mechanical stuff, but James liked the green paint and wasn't budging.
"Shouldn't we paint 'em blue then?" James asked.
The sergeant opened his mouth to reply when the air raid siren went off.
The Japanese had launched an air raid on Saipan from their base on Iwo Jima. Although the assault was only marginally effective, several B-29s in the vicinity suffered damage. James breathed a sigh of relief as he found "Clouting Claudia" unscathed. The dangers of war were all too real, but he was grateful that fate had spared his beloved aircraft.
"We're going to have to do something about those Iwo Jima airfields," the chief told James, adding a belated "sir" to his statement. James nodded in agreement and said, "I'm sure the brass feels the same way."
Soon after the Japanese attack, James embarked on his first combat mission in the Pacific theater. It was a retaliatory strike on the Japanese airfields on Iwo Jima, a critical step to neutralize the enemy's capabilities and gain a foothold for further operations. As his B-29 soared above the vast expanse of the Pacific, memories of his time with the Eighth Air Force in Europe flooded his mind. The contrast was stark—the vastness of the world's largest ocean contrasting with the relatively confined waters of Europe. But the purpose remained the same: to strike at the heart of the enemy's infrastructure and dismantle their war machine.
The mission proceeded smoothly, with the Japanese response falling short of the formidable opposition James had encountered in Europe. As he debriefed with his squadron commander, he reflected on the true nature of the B-29. "It's a sledgehammer," he remarked, "and we need to use it like one. Let's unleash its power on the industries and cities that sustain Japan's war effort."
In that moment, James realized the profound impact that working alongside General Arnold had on his outlook. His experiences and interactions with the fiery general had instilled in him a deep conviction that the B-29 was a weapon meant for strategic strikes, capable of bringing Japan to its knees.
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Clouting Claudia comes in for a landing at Saipan, November 1944