"From the Snare of the Fowler"

Air Group Twelve, crack bomber-torpedo-fighter outfit of a famed U.S. carrier, was back in the U.S. last week after 15 months of campaigning from Pearl Harbor to Trincomalee. By their own account, there was not a hero among them.

The outfit itself was the hero, and one of the greatest turned out yet by the Navy. Its skipper, Commander Joseph Clinton Clifton, a 36-year-old precision product of Annapolis and Pensacola, had seen to that. Sinewy "Jumping Joe," who was never known to sit in a chair more than 30 seconds at a time, had put the group straight on his views right from the start. They were a team; there was no room for hot-shots or prima donnas no time for the slightest bit of sloppy flying, bad shooting, lazy tactics.

The Talking Coach. The skipper, who got his battered nose "backing up a weak line at Annapolis," indulged in a few periods of silence during that 15 months. But they were mostly when he was in his bunk. In battle and out, he kept up a rapid fire of instruction, reprimand occasional praise. Group Twelve responded to his coaching: the score showed it.

Group Twelve lost only twelve of its planes by enemy action, three men killed in action, 20 missing. It destroyed 102 enemy planes, sank 104,500 tons of shipping, damaged 198,500 tons more It fought land-based in the Solomons for a week, averaged around five hours a day of fighting for every crew, and lost not one aircraft.

Carrier-based again, Air Group Twelve smashed at Rabaul, fought in the Gilbert Islands (Tarawa) invasion, roved the Marshalls for 25 days, blasted the way for

U.S. landings in Eniwetok in the Navy's knifing attack across the Pacific. Then it swung far to the southwest, joined up With British forces in Trincomalee, Ceylon.

Wingman Down. With the British (and Jumping Joe in command of the combined air groups) Group Twelve slashed at Jap bases at Sabang on the tip of Sumatra and the once-great Dutch naval base at Surabaya. Group Twelve lost one plane in each show.

Joe Clifton saw his wingman, "Klondike," with whom he had flown close to 500 hours, go down at sea. "He must be saved ! " Joe bellowed over the radio.

He gathered his Hellcats to smash at shore-based artillery and beat it down until Klondike (Lieut, (j.g.) Dale Klahn) was picked up by a British submarine in a hair-raising rescue.

The flyers of Group Twelve, now to be dispersed to spread their lore among new airmen, carried away many another memory last week as they said goodbye and went to their new stations. But none was sharper than the great carrier strike on Rabaul on Nov. 5, 1943.

Biggest Show. It was their biggest show up to that time. The outfit (said Joe) was "scared--but not afraid." By Admiral Halsey's order they were to help beat down a Jap task force, keep it from moving south and smashing inferior U.S. naval forces in the Solomons. There could be no failures by Group Twelve.

The helmeted pilots sat in the ready-room and waited. They had been briefed. For once. Jumping Joe ran out of conversation. Finally he got out his Testament and began to read aloud the gist Psalm:

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress. . . Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler. . . . For He shall give His angels charge over thee. . . .

The call came: "Pilots, man your planes!" Group Twelve went out to battle, and won.

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