Ted W. Lawson's 1943 Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, edited by Robert Considine, is one of those true-life, ripped-from-the-headlines, now-it-can-be-told stories: the tale of one of the pilots of the 18 April 1942 Doolittle mission against Japan, published only a year after the daring raid, when long years of fighting and suffering and dying still lay ahead around the world. The production of my own copy, which comes down from my grandparents, was made with "every effort...to comply with the government's request to conserve essential materials," we are told on the copyright page.
Lawson starts with a hook that the reader simply cannot shake:
"I helped bomb Tokyo on the Doolittle raid of April 18, 1942. I crashed in the China Sea. I learned the full, deep meaning of the term 'United Nations' from men and women whose language I couldn't speak. I watched a buddy of mine saw off my left leg. And finally I got home to my wife after being flown, shipped and carried around the world." (1943 Random House hardcover, page 3)
No one can deny the audacity of the Doolittle mission, or the glamor of it, really, but when the very fourth sentence of the book gives us this straight talk about amputation--not even using that surgical, slightly more polite term but instead tossing us the rough verb of saw--we know the piece isn't just going to be some boyish rah-rah. Indeed, Lawson "was one of the first of the badly wounded to get back to Washington," and, as he tells us with an artful simplicity made both of self-deprecation and of raw honesty, "At first it was a little tough. People in little villages in China, in New Delhi and in Washington would look at me and feel sorry for me. And I'd have to curse or think hard about something else to keep from blubbering like a damned kid" (page 3).
Before the war, Lawson, who had "always been hungry to learn everything about planes" (page 5), worked for Douglas Aircraft, moving from "ordinary shop work" (page 4) to engineering work on the giant B-19, "design[ing] the landing flaps, for braking the big crate, and the cowl flaps, for regulating the flow of air around the four motors. And, of course, the hydraulic system that operated them. [He] was getting ahead" (page 5). But he wanted more, and even though his mom "raised Cain" about it, in early 1940 Lawson "chuck[ed] a $36-a-week job with a company that was beginning to get big war orders from abroad for a $75-a-month job that might break [his] neck," enlisting in "the Army as a flying cadet" (page 5).
Regarding those salaries, by the way, let us note that the Bureau of Labor Statistics Inflation Calculator gives these in mid-2023 dollars as around $3,100 monthly for the civilian job, something quite decent for a 21- or 22-year old, and a rather more chickenfeed-ish $1,600 for the flying job, which though including food and board and chow, also includes, along with the joy of flying, the possibility of death while flying. Lawson tells us, however, that although "some people have been kind enough to think [he] did it because [he] had chosen the right cause and was getting ready early to fight for it," instead "[i]t was more or less selfish on [his] part, [he] guess[es]. [He] wanted the knowledge about planes that the Army could teach [him]" (pages 5-6). In any event, after he earned his wings, "Uncle Sam began paying [him] $245 a month on account of [his] gold bars" (page 7), equivalent to a comfy $5,300 today. On the week after graduation, however, he also loses six classmates "killed...on the way to assigned posts" (page 6)--this may be a well-paying job, but it is no easy one.
Lawson falls in love with the swift new twin-engined B-25s, which he describes as "a grand ship, fast, hard-hitting and full of fight" (page 7). He and his compatriots "helped shake a few 'bugs' out of the first model" as they "tested their speed, firepower, gas consumption, ability to take rough handling and bomb capacity" (pages 7-8). After the shock of Pearl Harbor, his former questions "during...months of maneuvers" about "what the hell [he] was doing there, risking [his] neck when the thing [he] wanted in the Army was research work" (page 13), disappear. He tells us, "Now I wanted the feel of that B-25 in my hands--not a blueprint. I didn't feel heroic. I just felt ready, and thanked God I was" (page 13).
And indeed, ready he is. For when his unit is presented with the opportunity to "volunteer for a special mission" that will be "dangerous, important and interesting" (page 19), Lawson and all the rest jump at the job, even without having a clue of what it is (page 20). Yet even after the arrival of Jimmy Doolittle, famous "after all those years of stunting, barnstorming and racing" and now a Lt. Colonel (page 22), the boys still can't yet get the straight dope. "If you men have any idea that this isn't the most dangerous thing you've ever been on, don't even start this training period," he warns them (page 22), and stresses the need for secrecy even while still withholding all details:
"'This whole thing must be kept secret. I don't even want you to tell your wives, no matter what you see, or are asked to do, down here. If you've guessed where we're going, don't even talk about your guess. This means every one of you. Don't even talk among yourselves about this thing. Now, does anybody want to drop out?'
Nobody dropped out." (pages 22-23)
So they focus on night flying, "check[ing] and recheck[ing] [their] instruments," practicing navigation, cross-training on other crew members' specialties, and learning short-field takeoffs using "less space and time than [they] believed was possible for a B-25" (pages 24-26). Their "special instructor in quick take-offs" is a Navy man, for "[t]he Navy knew a lot about such things"...and as he also "lecture[s] [them] at great length on Navy etiquette and courtesy" and explains "how to take a shower bath on a ship without wasting water," it becomes "apparent" "[t]hat [they] would be carted somewhere by the Navy" (page 26).
You know the rest, of course, whether from the 1944 black-and-white film with Spencer Tracy and Van Johnson and Robert Mitchum, from some history text, from a cable TV show, or simply from some internet surfing: due to an encounter with enemy ships, the raid had to be launched 400 miles father from Japan than planned (page 51); all targets were hit, with no B-25s lost to antiaircraft fire or fighters; but all except one of the fuel-starved planes had to be either ditched in, or abandoned by parachute over, China rather than reaching their intended recovery bases.
This book really should be read, though, because the immediacy and honesty of this first-hand account--the details of the mission, the dangers and uncertainties faced by the flyers, the awful suffering of the wounded, and the courage and selflessness of those who risked their lives to help the downed men--are both stirring and touching. Ted W. Lawson's 1943 Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo remains a powerful 5-star read a lifetime after its first publication, a heartfelt testament to the eternals of bravery, camaraderie, and goodness in humanity.