Jack Wilde woke up covered in blood. The gore gushed down his leg. His head pounded.
The second lieutenant had been hunched over in the cramped tail section of the B-25, so he didn’t really know what had happened.
He remembered the plane banking and suddenly starting to climb. Moments later he’d heard branches hitting the port tail wing. “I thought to myself, ‘Boy, that’s something to write home about,’ ” he recalled years later. “And about that time, it really was something to write home about because we hit the top of the mountain.”
Jack Wilde had found himself flying over the New Guinea jungle in January 1945 because his infantry division was part of the Allied forces leapfrogging across the Dutch East Indies toward Japan.
Intelligence had come in indicating that Japanese detachments were working their way toward the U.S. base at Sansapor, so commanders…
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