The 1930s was the golden age of the pioneer aviator. Among the most famous of these intrepid men and women must be Charles A Lindberg. In 1927 when he made the first solo non-stop flight from Paris to New York. The 33 +1⁄2-hour, 3,600-statute-mile flight put him and his aircraft, the spirit of St Louis, into the history books.
What is not so well known about this American hero was that he was a staunch anti-semite with white supremacist views who had direct links with the Nazi party.
Who was he and Why was Lindberg a Nazi sympathizer?
During the run-up to hostilities in 1941, Lindberg strongly protested against the United States’ involvement in the European war, even standing against the lend-lease initiative.
As a member of the America First Committee, which was pro-isolationist, he also resigned from his commission as a reservist in the US air force.
During 1941, He made his views about the war and members of the Jewish community aggressively clear in public speeches he gave.
Had he run for the office of president, as imagined in a 2004 novel by Philip Roth called ‘The Plot Against America’, the US may have kept out of the war against Germany. He may have even joined them.
Nevertheless, he was an American patriot first and foremost, and this is the story of his war against the Japanese. A war which he was officially not allowed to fight!
Why was he in the Pacific in secret
To really understand the story, we have to go back to what was happening to Charles Lindberg before the war.
Between 1936 and 1938, Lindberg, then still a reservist in the Air force, toured Germany and the Soviet Union to evaluate their air forces. While in Germany, Lindberg met many leading manufacturers and pilots. He was the first American to examine the Ju 88 bomber and even took to the air in a BF 109.
In a controversial move, Lindberg accepted and decided to keep a medal awarded to him at an intimate dinner by none other than Herman Goring.
This was weeks before the overt and brutal attacks against Jews in Germany on Kristallnacht. When told he should probably give the medal back or have refused it in the first place, Lindberg said “I can see no gain in indulging in a spitting contest before that war begins”.
Ultimately the Order of the Eagle joined the Medal of Honor awarded to him in 1927 in his display case.
His reports on German armaments, though perhaps exaggerated, nonetheless gave America vital information which it used to build up its own Air force.
General Henry H. Arnold, commander of the Army Air Force, wrote in his autobiography, “Nobody gave us much useful information about Hitler’s air force until Lindbergh came home in 1939.”
Nevertheless, perhaps due to what he’d seen in Germany or because of his appreciation of their policies, Lindberg was against the war.
In April 1941, he walked away from the air force and this is where the story could have ended.
When America was attacked on December 7th 1941, all talk of avoiding war stopped. The Japanese had hoped to shock America into favourable peace terms by destroying their Pacific fleet.
They achieved neither objective and instead galvanized the country against them. Even pro-Nazi isolationists such as Charles Lindberg would not take this provocation lying down.
Lindberg’s Wartime career
Lindberg’s behaviour during the run-up to war had really put a lot of noses out of joint. President Roosevelt, who had secretly been pushing Americans towards war since 1939, really disliked the man.
When Lindberg tried to re-enlist, He actively blocked Lindberg from joining the armed forces. This meant that the gifted pilot was unable to defend his country and was at a loose end while others were shipping out to the front.
Worse still, the government encouraged those companies with a government contract to stop using Lindberg as an advisor. Most followed this boycott of his services, except for Henry Ford. And so, Lindbergh went to work for him on 3 April 1942 as a technical consultant helping Ford convert from auto to bomber production.
Over the next couple of years, the government relented and allowed Lindberg to test a variety of aircraft and advise the aircraft industry in a number of ways. But he was still eager to get into combat and serve in one of the many theaters of operation.
Lindberg heads out into the Pacific
In January 1944, the Marine Corps arranged for him to tour their Pacific bases and advise on their employment of the F4U Corsair. THis he did without the knowledge of the government, being spirited away by a friendly US navy dressed from head to foot as a sailor.
Arriving at Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands, Lindberg acted as a civilian liaison between the Marine outfits and the manufacturers. This led to improved communications between the two parties and an improved F4U.
Ever the adventurer and working on an active military airbase, it seemed inevitable that Lindberg would find himself on patrol. As a civilian, this was completely illegal in terms of the Geneva Convention, but Lindberg was itching to see combat.
In total Lindeberg would fly 14 missions with the Marines, engaging the Japanese mainly through strafing attacks. Already a good pilot, this transformed the ocean-crosser into a combat veteran.
By June his time with the Marine corps was over and he was onto his next official assignment.
United Aircraft was interested in the feasibility of developing a new twin-engined fighter. At the time, the P-38 was the sole American example of that genre of aircraft.
Lindberg has heard that the 475th Fighter Group, then based in New Guinea, were the hot Lightning outfit so he decided to learn from the best.
Again, Lindberg literally just turned up without any official notice or permission.
Lindberg Joins his first P-38 squadron
There’s a story of when he actually arrived at the 475th’s base in Hollandia, New Guinea and was nearly turned away. At the time Lindberg was borrowing Richard Bong’s P-38, but nobody else had been told of this.
Teddy W. Hanks was a flight chief of ten aircraft at that time — which was toward the end of June 1944. They had positioned about 18 planes on a parking strip at the west end of the landing strip since their squadron was assigned “alert duty.”
During mid-morning Teddy noticed an alien P-38 pull into their area, park alongside his planes and the pilot throttle back preparatory to shutting down the engines.
Teddy quickly drove his jeep to the front of the newcomer, jumped out so that he could easily see him and the six stripes on his sleeves, and began moving his head in the universal “NO” fashion.
The pilot leaned forward in the cockpit, looked to his left at the row of P-38s, looked back at Teddy, raised his left hand with the index finger pointing down and made an up and down motion. Teddy realized he was asking for permission to park, but Teddy was not going to allow it.
Teddy continued the “NO” motion while indicating with a raised arm for him to taxi out of the area. He advanced the throttles and moved forward.
As the aircraft turned to the right, Teddy noticed a large number of Japanese flags painted on the left side of the center section immediately ahead of the cockpit.
An hour or so later, word quickly spread throughout their flight line that Charles A. Lindbergh had just landed in Bong’s airplane. To say Teddy was expecting to be called upon the carpet for being so rude to a pilot — especially a world renown personality — would be an understatement. But, the man apparently was much too big to allow a minor incident to become a major distraction. To Teddy’s knowledge, he never mentioned the incident to anyone.
How did Lindberg get involved with military matters in the Pacific?
On 4 July 1944, General George C. Kenney, the Commander of the 5th Air Force, heard from a War Correspondent that Colonel Charles Lindbergh was in New Guinea.Kenney asked General Whitehead in New Guinea to get a message to Lindbergh to say that he would like to see him in his Brisbane office.
Lindbergh arrived in Brisbane the following day and met with Kenney and explained his fact finding mission with the P-38.
As he did not have “legal permission” to be in the SWPA theater of war, Kenney decided he should legitimize Lindbergh’s presence by introducing him to General Douglas MacArthur.
When MacArthur asked Lindbergh if there was anything he could do for him, Kenney butted in and indicated that he had an important job for Lindbergh.
He advised that he wanted Lindbergh to get more operational radius from his P-38 Lightnings. If he could fly a little monoplane all the way from New York to Paris and have gas left over, he should be able to help his P-38 pilots in the 5th Air Force.
MacArthur agreed that Lindbergh should help.
Once back in Kenney’s office, Lindbergh indicated that he could increase the operational radius of the P-38s by almost 50%. Their current radius of operation was 400 miles. Lindbergh was hoping to increase this to 600 miles.
Kenney told Lindbergh that he did not want him to be involved in any combat missions. It would not be good news if he were to be shot down or captured by the Japanese.
Nonetheless, Lindberg began to fly combat missions with the 475th, who were engaged in a lot of ground pounding.
The squadron had been making six and a half to seven-hour flights. But apparently, this was still not the maxim range a P-38 could manage.
How did Lindberg help extend the range of the P-38 Lightning?
On Ist July Lindbergh was flying his third mission with the group, an armed reconnaissance to enemy strips on the western shore of Geelvink Bay.
Already Lindbergh’s technical eye noticed something. After six and one-half hours flying time, he landed with 210 gallons of fuel remaining in his Lightning’s tanks.
Now, according to my research, the P-38J he was flying had a reserve of 910 gallons. This meant that after a full-range mission, according to the average 475th pilot, Lindeberg had 23% of his fuel left.
On 3 July, the squadron was escorting B-25s before being released to go barge hunting.
First one, then two pilots reported dwindling fuel and broke off for home. MacDonald, the squadron commander, ordered the squadron back but because Lindbergh had nursed his fuel, he asked for and received permission to continue the hunt with his wingman.
After a few more strafing runs, Lindbergh noticed the other Lightning circling overhead. Nervously the pilot told Lindbergh that he had only 175 gallons of fuel left. The civilian told him to reduce engine rpms, lean out his fuel mixture, and throttle back.
When they landed, his wingman had seventy gallons left, Lindbergh had 260. They had started the mission with equal amounts of gas.
After this mission, Lindberg thought he had figured out the problem of increasing the lightning’s range. He gathered the pilots together and shared his findings
In a pleasant manner Lindbergh explained the cruise control techniques he had worked out for the Lightnings: reduce the standard 2,200 rpm to 1,600, set fuel mixtures to “auto-lean,” and slightly increase manifold pressures.
This, Lindbergh predicted, would stretch the Lightning’s radius by 400 hundred miles, a nine-hour flight. When he concluded his talk half an hour later, the room was silent.
Despite the clear advantage of extending the lightning hunting ground, nine hours in a cramped cockpit was not something they revealed in. And they had good reasons for this.
Later, on 14 October 1944, a P-38 pilot celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday with an eight-hour escort to Balikpapan, Borneo. On touching down, he was so cramped his crew chief had to climb up and help him get out of the cockpit.
Although Lindberg had been using his setting for several missions now, the ground crew were worried the settings would foul spark plugs and scorch cylinders.
In answer to this Lindbergh turned to the Lightning’s technical manual and provided all the figures necessary to prove his point; they had been there all along. Nonetheless the 475th remained skeptical. There was one thing that changed their mind
MacDonald the commander, explained to his pilots that if better aircraft performance meant a shorter war, then increasing the Lightning’s range was worth investigating.
Lindbergh had indeed provided the idea, but it was MacDonald’s endorsement, backed by the enormous respect accorded him by the group, that saw the experiment to fruition.
The next day, the Fourth of July, Lindbergh accompanied the 433rd squadron on a six-hour, forty-minute flight led by Captain “Parky” Parkansky. When the P-38s landed their fuel reserve was checked. The lowest fuel level recorded was 160 gallons.
Lindberg, despite his unsavory political views, had come to the aid of his nation and had made it much easier for the P-38 to seek and destroy the enemy.
