Target Tokyo: Jimmy Doolittle and the Raid That Avenged Pearl Harbor by James M. Scott Page B
Authors: James M. Scott
Tags: United States, Asia, History, World War II, Military, 20th Century, Japan, Aviation, Americas, Pulitzer Prize Finalist 2016 HISTORY
Ads: Link
job.
“General,” he answered, “give me a little time and I’ll give you an answer.”
Doolittle researched each plane’s performance data before reporting the next day that either the B-23 or the B-25 would work. Both would require extra fuel tanks.
Arnold added another demand: the plane must have a narrow enough wingspan to lift off in an area less than seventy-five feet wide.
“Then there’s only plane that can do it,” Doolittle replied. “The B-25 is the answer to your question.”
Arnold thanked Doolittle, who exited the office.
Doolittle had hit on the exact plane as Duncan. Arnold picked up the phone to Admiral King. The plan was a go. The Hornet would depart the West Coast around April1, a date that would allow the carrier time to finish its shakedown and transit the Panama Canal. Duncan would handle logistics for the Navy. That would include overseeing trial takeoffs from the Hornet as well as a visit to Pearl Harbor to organize the task force. Arnold would need to pick someone on his side to direct the modification of the bombers and to train the aircrews. The general summoned Doolittle again the next day.
“Jim, I need someone take this job over—“
“And I know where you can get that someone,” Doolittle interrupted.
“Okay, it’s your baby,” Arnold told him. “You’ll have first priority on anything you need to get the job done. Get in touch with me directly if anybody gets in your way.”
CHAPTER 3
Doolittle is as gifted with brains as he is with courage.
— NEW YORK TIMES , SEPTEMBER 23, 1927
THE PLAN LAID OUT by General Arnold was the perfect operation for Jimmy Doolittle, a man who on first glimpse did not appear to be such a formidable fighter. The gray-eyed Doolittle stood just five feet four—two inches shorter than Napoleon—though he frequently upped his height a couple of inches on official records. His short stature had shaped his personality from his childhood days along the Alaskan frontier, where his father, Frank Doolittle, had relocated the family from California during the gold rush at the turn of the twentieth century. The rugged town of Nome looked to Doolittle as he disembarked the ship like a sea of tents, shacks, and cabins. Mud paths served as roads, and public sanitation consisted of toilets built atop pilings along the waterfront to let the daily tides flush away the waste. Dysentery and typhoid fever flourished, as did crime in a town that boasted two dozen saloons and liquor stores. Doolittle even watched one day as half a dozen wild dogs tore apart his best friend in the streets.
Doolittle’s small size was a disadvantage among his peers. Students picked on him in school, and as punishment one time his teacher made him write twenty-five times on the chalkboard, “Jimmy Doolittle is thesmallest boy in the school.” Doolittle raised his fists for the first time at the age of five when he battled a native Alaskan child. “One of my punches caught him on the nose and blood spurted all over his parka. It scared us both,” Doolittle later recalled. “I ran home to my mother, certain that I had killed an Eskimo.” He soon proved he was a capable fighter despite his small size. Word spread, and bigger children lined up for the chance to battle the scrappy youth. Doolittle, in turn, found that he actually enjoyed the challenge of a good fight. “Since my size was against me, I decided my survival could be insured only by a speedy attack right from the start,” he later wrote. “I found it was easy to draw blood if you were nimble on your feet, aimed at a fellow’s nose, and got your licks in early.”
Doolittle’s father never found much gold, but instead worked mostly as a carpenter. Tools fascinated the younger Doolittle so much that his father gave him his own set and encouraged him to learn to work with his hands. Doolittle helped his father build furniture and even houses, developing important mechanical skills that would prove vital
“General,” he answered, “give me a little time and I’ll give you an answer.”
Doolittle researched each plane’s performance data before reporting the next day that either the B-23 or the B-25 would work. Both would require extra fuel tanks.
Arnold added another demand: the plane must have a narrow enough wingspan to lift off in an area less than seventy-five feet wide.
“Then there’s only plane that can do it,” Doolittle replied. “The B-25 is the answer to your question.”
Arnold thanked Doolittle, who exited the office.
Doolittle had hit on the exact plane as Duncan. Arnold picked up the phone to Admiral King. The plan was a go. The Hornet would depart the West Coast around April1, a date that would allow the carrier time to finish its shakedown and transit the Panama Canal. Duncan would handle logistics for the Navy. That would include overseeing trial takeoffs from the Hornet as well as a visit to Pearl Harbor to organize the task force. Arnold would need to pick someone on his side to direct the modification of the bombers and to train the aircrews. The general summoned Doolittle again the next day.
“Jim, I need someone take this job over—“
“And I know where you can get that someone,” Doolittle interrupted.
“Okay, it’s your baby,” Arnold told him. “You’ll have first priority on anything you need to get the job done. Get in touch with me directly if anybody gets in your way.”
CHAPTER 3
Doolittle is as gifted with brains as he is with courage.
— NEW YORK TIMES , SEPTEMBER 23, 1927
THE PLAN LAID OUT by General Arnold was the perfect operation for Jimmy Doolittle, a man who on first glimpse did not appear to be such a formidable fighter. The gray-eyed Doolittle stood just five feet four—two inches shorter than Napoleon—though he frequently upped his height a couple of inches on official records. His short stature had shaped his personality from his childhood days along the Alaskan frontier, where his father, Frank Doolittle, had relocated the family from California during the gold rush at the turn of the twentieth century. The rugged town of Nome looked to Doolittle as he disembarked the ship like a sea of tents, shacks, and cabins. Mud paths served as roads, and public sanitation consisted of toilets built atop pilings along the waterfront to let the daily tides flush away the waste. Dysentery and typhoid fever flourished, as did crime in a town that boasted two dozen saloons and liquor stores. Doolittle even watched one day as half a dozen wild dogs tore apart his best friend in the streets.
Doolittle’s small size was a disadvantage among his peers. Students picked on him in school, and as punishment one time his teacher made him write twenty-five times on the chalkboard, “Jimmy Doolittle is thesmallest boy in the school.” Doolittle raised his fists for the first time at the age of five when he battled a native Alaskan child. “One of my punches caught him on the nose and blood spurted all over his parka. It scared us both,” Doolittle later recalled. “I ran home to my mother, certain that I had killed an Eskimo.” He soon proved he was a capable fighter despite his small size. Word spread, and bigger children lined up for the chance to battle the scrappy youth. Doolittle, in turn, found that he actually enjoyed the challenge of a good fight. “Since my size was against me, I decided my survival could be insured only by a speedy attack right from the start,” he later wrote. “I found it was easy to draw blood if you were nimble on your feet, aimed at a fellow’s nose, and got your licks in early.”
Doolittle’s father never found much gold, but instead worked mostly as a carpenter. Tools fascinated the younger Doolittle so much that his father gave him his own set and encouraged him to learn to work with his hands. Doolittle helped his father build furniture and even houses, developing important mechanical skills that would prove vital
Similar Books
