WWII pilot recalls Pearl Harbor attack

Thomas McKelvey thought he'd won a plum assignment after completing Navy pilot school in 1941.

He was just 22, a country boy from the then-tiny town of Moncks Corner. He imagined what flying adventures awaited as he headed across the country to his duty station on the picturesque islands of Hawaii.

He arrived at the Navy base in Pearl Harbor just two weeks before the infamous Japanese attack that plunged America into World War II, shaped McKelvey's life and cemented the legacy of an entire generation.

Now 89, McKelvey lives humbly in a tidy West Ashley home. Every couple of days, he backs his Buick out of the garage and drives to a nearby nursing home to visit his wife of 40 years, Margaret.

Many of his buddies from the war have died, and he can't quite believe

67 years have elapsed since that fateful morning of Dec. 7, 1941.

McKelvey and much of the base slept as the first wave of Japanese bombers lifted off from a string of aircraft carriers and aimed for the unsuspecting island. "I was awakened by an explosion that morning. My roommate and I looked out the window, and I could see smoke coming from a hangar at the end of the island. Then someone came running down the hall yelling, 'General quarters, general quarters. This is not a drill.' "

McKelvey frantically pulled on a shirt and pants and ran outside as a flash overhead caught his eye. He looked up to see silver planes strafing low, big red circles emblazoned on their fuselages. "When we saw that, there wasn't any doubt in anyone's mind that we were at war."

Chaos reigned. Massive U.S. Navy battleships and destroyers that once seemed impenetrable listed and sank in the harbor.

The final tally was unfathomable: More than 2,400 killed and nearly 1,300 wounded. Dozens of aircraft destroyed, ships dropped to the ocean floor.

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Thomas McKelvey, Pearl Harbor survivor

Thomas McKelvey, 89, served in the Navy during World War II and recalls the attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.

McKelvey was third pilot on an amphibious PBY Catalina. He and his crew battled jangled nerves when they took to the air for security patrols the next day. Every aircraft in the sky, even friendly, was suspect and vulnerable. "Everyone was trigger happy. We didn't know if the Japanese were coming back."

By the summer of 1942, American forces had launched an offensive in the Pacific and McKelvey had risen to second pilot. He and his crew were summoned to a closed-door meeting. The Pacific Fleet had broken a Japanese code outlining a pending attack on Midway Island. The PBY squadron was assigned to keep watch over hundreds of miles of airspace for the likely assault.

Nearly seven decades later, McKelvey still is miffed that he couldn't engage an enemy sub his crew spotted in a lagoon during one patrol. "We could have sunk that submarine, but we had strict orders not to bomb."

Days later, that same submarine would torpedo and finish off the badly damaged Yorktown.

The boatlike hull of the PBY also made it well-suited to rescue pilots shot down in the battle. Some survived in rafts for more than a week.

McKelvey still see can the expressions of one downed crew he helped pluck from the roiling waves. The stranded men were sunburned and starved. "They were glad to see us."

Soon after that decisive battle, McKelvey and his crew were ordered to report to the cabin of a Navy admiral in charge of forces in the South Pacific. The admiral was John S. McCain, grandfather of U.S. Sen. John McCain, and he wanted to hear the crew's firsthand account.

By 1943, McKelvey was flying bombing and photo reconnaissance missions over Japan's Kurile Islands. The nighttime flights onboard Ventura bombers were fraught with danger as the crews flew through bitter cold. Their use of photoflash bombs to light the snow-covered terrain below made them vulnerable targets. "They lit up the sky like the Fourth of July. The enemy saw the flash and started firing at us."

After one successful raid, the crew celebrated with a meal of icy sandwiches turned rock-hard in the extreme cold.

McKelvey was commanding his own crew by then and piloting the much larger C-54, a four-engine cargo plane that became the workhorse of the Berlin Airlift.

His plane ferried 10-ton loads of coal to the Soviet-blockaded city. He vividly recalls choking on thick clouds of coal dust that stirred up when crews off-loaded the heavy bags. He reminisces about the rewards of sweet chocolate and hot coffee from thankful German women.

McKelvey remained in the service until 1962. He picked up a chest full of medals for his flying missions, including the Distinguished Flying Cross. But you won't hear him boast. He considers himself "fortunate" to have served in some of the defining moments of World War II.

He still thinks about Pearl Harbor and all that followed. But his memories of that time grow cloudier with each anniversary. Today, he'll unfurl a faded American flag that rests in a corner of his den and proudly fly it from his front porch. "I only put it up on special occasions."

Reach Ron Menchaca at 937-5724.