Barbers Point NAS

Back to the squadron at Barbers Point in time for a 9:45 hop. Wink Hayward and I flew a special problem (radar calibration) for the New Mexico in formation at altitudes ranging from 5,000 feet to 16,000 feet. Upon completion of the problem we climbed to 20,000 feet for some bombing (Molokai — Love 3). On oxygen from 8,000 feet on up. Hop lasted four hours. A little chilly at the upper altitudes, especially for the crew. I broke the first rule of high-altitude flying by going up with a hangover (slight hangover). No ill effects noticeable, except that my co-pilot said my respiration rate was considerably higher than his own.

Tried formation bombing but didn’t accomplish much as time is growing short and my gas supply was getting low (due to the ground crew’s failure to fill my right outboard wing tank). Finally with less than 100 gallons left, I shoved the hose over, and dove for home. Indicated 270, True, about 350 mph. As I was passing over Diamond Head at 10,000 feet I felt the #4 engine quit, and then #3. Then #2 and #1. I thought “Jesus Christ, the mech (Stoob) has read the gauges wrong and we’re out of gas!” Was already making plans for a dead-stick landing at Hickam (an almost impossible feat), or, in case of a bad approach, a sea landing off the entrance to Pearl in the shallow reef water. I told my co-pilot that the engines had cut out. (One can’t hear them at high speeds, but I had felt them go through my rudder controls, and a glance at the cylinder head temperature gauges verified it.) He gave me a guilty look and reached forward to switch on the booster pumps, which he had just cut off, unbeknownst to me. The engines cut in again, one by one, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Found out later that because of the near emptiness of our tanks, the engine-driven fuel pumps are unable to maintain the gas supply to the engines without the aid of the booster pumps. Well, live and learn; or better, learn and live!