As many as 85 Million people died during the Second World War. as Felix Schlamberg climbed into his P-51 Mustang on the 14th August 1945, he knew he would be one of them.
What neither he nor his fellow squadron mates knew was that the war would be over before they concluded their mission that day. This was something they deeply wished for
5 days earlier a second atomic bomb had been dropped over Japan. Yet, the Japanese still refused to capitulate. And so one more man would have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Tragically, Phil Schlamberg didn’t have to get into the cockpit that day. He was offered a lifeline by his wingman Captan Yellin, a chance to remain behind on the ground. A chance to live. Instead, Lt Schlamberg chose not to send another man in his place and flew the last combat mission of WW2. He would never be seen again.
When it comes to comprehending the amount of slaughter humanity inflicted on itself during the run up to and course of the Second World War, It’s almost impossible.
Standing in the middle of a vast war cemetery, you’re either awestruck or rendered disconnected by the countless graves before you. When you get closer and read individual names, the experience takes on a more personal note. Joe Stalin, for all his sins, certainly understood this phenomenon.
And so, for me at least, the stories of the people who fall first and last in a battle or war seem to hold additional significance. In WW2, the first to die was a faceless Pole, or at least an undesirable dressed in a Polish uniform. Alternatively, if you have that world view, it was a different faceless citizen, this time from China. What is better documented is the last to die in combat in the worst conflict that humanity has yet endured. It was Phil Schlamberg.
Who was Felix Schlamberg?
Felix Schlamberg, Philip or Phil to his friends and ”Phelly” to his family, grew up in a Jewish-American family in the heart of Brooklyn. The Schlambergs lived in extreme poverty, raised by a single mother living in a one room apartment. To make additional money for food, the Schlamberg kids would sell ice cream to tourists on the beach. Something they were detained for numerous times by the Police. But despite their humble and hoodlum origins, the 8 children were no fools.
The family excelled at school. Phil Schlamberg would graduate high school in the top 99th percentile of his year. Many of his siblings would also graduate as valedictorians. Schlamberg had plans for and was accepted to attend college. He didn’t have the funds to attend, and the events of December 7th 1941 meant he would never have the time to raise them.
Schlamberg’s war career
In 1942, Schlamberg enlisted In the Army Air Corp. He is reported as having one of the highest scores ever on the entrance exams, which allowed him to pick any role he wanted. Phil wanted to be a fighter pilot.
Schlamberg would ultimately find himself attached to the 78th Fighter Squadron where he met Jerry Yellin, his future partner in the skies of the pacific.
Yellin, also of Jewish heritage, had also enlisted on his 18th birthday in 1942. He almost didn’t make it in. Despite being able to pass the college equivalency exam and proving his mental ability to fly complex modern aircraft, his physical ability was in question.
Failing an early eye exam by a small margin, the doctor sent him back with instructions on how to rest his eye for a follow up and final assessment in a few days time. Rather than remain in a dark room gorging himself on carrots for several days, Yellin asked his mother for help. Serving in a local recruitment center, Mrs Yellin was able to borrow an eye exam chart, which her son then learnt by heart. He was in.
After spending months training and finally racking up 10 hours in a P-40 in an advanced training unit, Yellin’s eyesight was again called into question. Told by the attending medical officer that he was recommending Yellin for transport aircraft duties, the would-be fighter pilot demanded to see a superior.
Standing in front of the commandant of cadets, Yellin pleaded his case, and was told that any man who had the matzah balls to stand in front of the CO like this, was a true fighter pilot at heart. He was definitely in now.
Spending just over 2 years of training and having joined the 78th Fighter squadron in Hawaii, Yellin along with other pilots, including Schlamberg were finally deployed. Setting sail for the recently captured Marianas islands in December 1944, pilots and their new P-51s would finally meet the enemy who had attacked their country 3 years before.
Why were there P-51 Mustangs on Iwo Jima?
By March 1945, the 78th then based on Saipan, were about to make their most hazardous flight yet. Just a few weeks earlier, on February 19th, American Marines had landed on a small island hundreds of miles to the north. It was called Iwo Jima.
On March 7th, P-51s, including the ones piloted by Yellin and Schlamberg, took off from Saipan and headed for the Volcanic island, itself within range of the Japanese home islands. The P-51s were not heading to a secure American held island as they had done when arriving on Saipan. Iwo Jima was still heavily contested, and the sights and dangers of battle were everywhere to see.
Yellin describes how on landing at the improvised dirt strip, protected by a thin perimeter of American-held ground, the smell of death hit him. Decomposing Bodies, largely Japanese, were piled alongside the peritrack, awaiting burial in mass graves. With the heat of the region even in Spring, this couldn’t come soon enough.
What’s more, the P-51 pilots and their aircraft were vulnerable to enemy fire on the ground. Mortar rounds and enemy bullets raked the American-held sector, seeking out victims.
P-51s arrive on Iwo Jima
As soon as they popped their canopies and even before their engines had wound down, entrenching tools were thrust into the pilots hands and they were told to dig.
This was easier said than done in the volcanic ground, which only became hotter the further you dug into it. The Japanese had been digging too.
The Pilots were told to stay in their foxholes, especially at night when the Japanese were known to infiltrate the American lines, targeting dozing Marines. Yellin recalls that he and most of the other newly arrived pilots spent a sleepless night, the air heavy with shot, shell and the smell of rotting men.
Initially the P-51s were used for close air support to help the Marines drive back the Japanese defenders. But the Mustangs could do little to help weed out those enemy soldiers who escaped to their subterranean defences.This was overcome somewhat with the introduction of improvised napalm, which was rigged to be dropped by the Mustangs.
Attacking Chichi-jima
The next target for many of the P-51s was the island of Chichi-jima, an important stronghold of the Japanese. The island boasted an airfield and radio facilities, which would present a real danger to safe operations from Iwo Jima.The emperor’s own anti-aircraft crews, the best in all Japan, had been sent to defend this important chain in home island defense.
It was decided that rather than assault the mountainous island from the ground, it would have to be suppressed from the air.
The island has become synonymous with the depravity of Japanese troops. In what would become known as the “incident”, competing Japanese officers served up the livers of 8 captured US airmen as delicacies in a sinister soiree. President George H. W. Bush, then an Avenger pilot, narrowly escaped a similar fate. Being taken dead or alive on the island was a fate no American wanted to face.
Indeed, when Richard Henry Schrobel was shot down over the island on July 3rd 1945, he ran into the surf and took to his dinghy in a bid to escape the Japanese. Overhead, his squadron mates tried to defend him from the air, while another squadron of P-51s was diverted to the area to support them.
A B17-H flying Dutchman was also dispatched to the area where it could drop a larger life boat into the water. Under the concentrated fire of the Japanese defenders for several hours, Schrobel was killed while climbing into the Higgins boat. Rather than letting his body fall into the hands of the Japanese, his squadron mates opened fire on the boat and sent it and Schroebel to the bottom.
US Pilots were no safer on their own island of Iwo Jima. On the night of March 26th 1945, the remaining Japanese defenders mounted a last banzai charge. Many undiscovered Japanese tunnels lay within the American perimeter, and it was not unheard of for Americans to be killed in their sleep.
On this night, fighter pilots and marines fought hand to hand with the Japanese, many being killed, before they overcame the defenders. The Island was then declared “secure” However, Japanese troops remained hidden on the island, two of whom didn’t surrender until 1949.
On April 7th, the P-51 pilots began the work that had resulted in 26,000 American casualties to take the island of Iwo Jima. The Mustangs had the range to fly very long escort missions over the Japanese homeland covering B-29s based on the Marianas islands.
This was by no means an easy task.
Flying escort missions over Japan
The first enemy was the weather. Sudden and violent storm fronts could materialize in the region, which could easily lead to the loss of American single-engine aircraft. Next came the Japanese. Although significantly weakened over the previous years, they were not defeated yet. Fighters and flak were real threats to both Mustang and Superfortress.
Although famed as the premier long range fighter of WW2, the P-51 was also, it could be argued, a poor choice for these types of missions. A bullet in the wrong place could down a Merlin powered Mustang in minutes whereas a radial engine powered P-47 might happily make it to base.
Indeed, on April 12th Major Jim Tapp had lost a wingman during an attack on a Kawasaki Ki-61 Tony. Shadowing Tapp closely, 1st Lt Fred White experienced catastrophe when Tapps own spent cartridges made it into his engine. Over the Japanese mainland, the two Mustangs headed out to sea in search of the many rescue sites manned by the USN.
Choosing to bale out rather than risk immediate submersion during a water landing, White fell to his death with a useless parachute trailing behind him.
Stories like this revealed the real danger of operating a P-51 over the ocean. It was impossible to ditch one in the sea and float for more than a second, and now even bailing out didn’t guarantee survival.
In June 1945, Curtis Le May took command of the Bomber force attacking Japan. He immediately switched to a night bombing offensive, which left the P-51s at a loose end. Their new mission would echo their comrades in Europe as they were sent to attack the Japanese on the ground wherever they could be found.
Then the world changed.
Dropping the first atomic bomb on Japan
On August 6, 1945, at 8:15 a.m, the crew of the Enola Gay dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Schlamberg and his comrades, some of whom were with Yellin attacking targets over Tokyo that morning, thought this must signal the end of the war.
When no peace came, a second bomb would be dropped by the crew of Bockscar 3 days later on Nagasaki.
The mood among the aircrew on Iwo Jima must have been ecstatic. The worst war in human history was tantalizingly close to its end. Some must have thought they would never have to fly their aircraft in anger ever again.
In Japan a struggle was breaking out. There were those in the military command who desired a quick end to the war to preserve their country and citizens. Others could not support surrender, and thought that every citizen should fight to the last breath. A Military coup was even launched in these last days by those who wanted to continue the fight.
The Allies, though determined, did not want to conduct an invasion of Japan. It risked another million Allied lives, and perhaps months more of needless combat.
Flying the last combat mission of WWII
During this desperate time between war and peace, the men of the 78th fighter squadron were called into the briefing room. It was August 13th, four days after 35,000 citizens had been obliterated by the Fat Man bomb, though more had perished during the firebombing campaign of the previous weeks. The pilots were being sent on a mission the next day.
Despite all being brave volunteers dedicated to their nation’s cause, there must have been some feeling of “is it worth it?”. They were assured that if a surrender was received the recall word “Utah” would be sent out to recall them.
Even so, it’s at this moment that Phil Schlamberg turned to Jerry Yellin and calmly told him, “I’m not coming back from this one”. Yellin was taken aback but not unfamiliar with pilots predicting their own death. They were often right, and usually this sort of premonition became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Wanting to protect Schlamberg from himself, Yellin conspired with his superior, Major Jim Tapp, to have the New Yorker grounded for the mission. Tapp agreed that Schlamberg should see Doc Lewis, and then be declared unfit for operations.
On delivering this fortunate news to the stoic Schlamberg, Yellin felt sure he would be saving the young pilot’s life. Schlamberg refused point blank to allow another man to assume his fate, and requested to remain on the mission.
Yellin tried to break the air of doom around his wingman by reminding him of two things. Firstly, the war would more than likely end before they made the long journey to the Japanese coast. They would surely hear Utah, the abort codeword, and be able to turn back.
Secondly, even in the hostile sea below, there were teams of air sea rescue aircraft and ships on hand to pluck them out of the drink should they have to ditch. All Schlamberg had to do was stick to Yellin like glue and he would bring him home.
Arriving over Japan, the pilots being led by Yellin had not received a recall signal and so began their strafing attacks on a Japanese airfield. Yellin was sure to keep a close eye on Schlamberg, who never left his wing.
After attacking yet another target, another pilot warned Yellin that he was dangerously close to the 90-gallon minimum fuel needed to return to Iwo Jima. As the flight turned for home, Schlamberg was still on Yellin’s wing.
Crossing the coast, the P-51 hit a cloud, which was common for the region. Four P-51s flew into it, but only 3 made it out the otherside.
Phil Schlamberg had vanished. His aircraft and remains were never found. Was it flak? A Japanese fighter? Or just pilot error? What happened to him has never been confirmed. But he will forever remain the last US serviceman to be lost in combat during WW2.
Sadly, even before the P-51s had reached Japan that nation had surrendered and the war had officially been over for hours when Schlamberg fell.
Remembering Phil Schlamberg
Yellin never forgot his wingman, nor the other two he lost during the war. The 19 missions and 16 pilots he lost stayed with him for years as he struggled with undiagnosed PTSD.
In the years that followed, Yellin would befriend Michael, Phil Schlamberg’s brother whose daughter would marry a Danish architect, eventually having 4 children. One of whom is the actress Scarlett Johansson.
Scarlett would be a vocal supporter of Jerry Yellin’s organization set up to help servicemen and women suffering from PTSD using the very techniques he used to overcome his own condition.
Jerry Yellin would strive to spread a message of peace and reconciliation. His own son moved to Japan, married a local woman, the daughter of a Japanese kamikaze pilot, and gave Jerry three Japanese grandchildren. In Jerry’s eyes, his love for them was no different than for his American-born grandchildren.
In 2015, Jerry Yellin traveled to Iwo Jima with other veterans to mark the 75th anniversary of the battle. He was the only pilot present and stood there to represent the men he had seen lost. Including Phil Schlamberg.
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