When the infamous attack by Japan took place on December 7, 1941, which plunged the USA into the Second World war, there were several McKelveys on the muster rolls of crews at Pearl Harbor. Thomas McKelvey, when he graduated from flying school in 1941 thought he had pulled a plumb post when he was appointed third pilot of an amphibious Catalina.
He was just 22 years of age. A country boy raised in the then tiny town of Monck’s Corner, he arrived at the Navy base in Pearl Harbor only two weeks before the Japanese attack.
In an interview in his 89th year given to Melissa Haneline of ‘The Post and Courier’, he recalled how much of the base slept as the first wave of Japanese bombers lifted off from a string of aircraft carriers and aimed for the unsuspecting island.
Thomas said, "I was awakened by an explosion that morning. My roommate and I looked out the window, and I could see smoke coming from a hangar at the end of the island. Then someone came running down the hall yelling, 'General quarters, general quarters. This is not a drill.' "
He frantically pulled on a shirt and pants and ran outside as a flash overhead caught his eye. He looked up to see silver planes strafing low, big red circles emblazoned on their fuselages. "When we saw that, there wasn't any doubt in anyone's mind that we were at war."
Chaos reigned. Massive U.S. Navy battleships and destroyers that once seemed impenetrable listed and sank in the harbour.
Thomas was third pilot on an amphibious PBY Catalina. He and his crew battled jangled nerves when they took to the air for security patrols the next day. Every aircraft in the sky, even friendly, was suspect and vulnerable. "Everyone was trigger happy. We didn't know if the Japanese were coming back."
By the summer of 1942, American forces had launched an offensive in the Pacific and Thomas had risen to second pilot. He and his crew were summoned to a closed-door meeting. The Pacific Fleet had broken a Japanese code outlining a pending attack on Midway Island. The PBY squadron was assigned to keep watch over hundreds of miles of airspace for the likely assault.
Nearly seven decades later, Thomas remained frustrated that he couldn't engage an enemy sub his crew spotted in a lagoon during one patrol. "We could have sunk that submarine, but we had strict orders not to bomb", he said.
Days later, that same submarine would torpedo and finish off the badly damaged Yorktown.
The boatlike hull of the PBY also made it well-suited to rescue pilots shot down in the battle. Some survived in rafts for more than a week.
Thomas said he could still see the expressions of one downed crew he helped pluck from the roiling waves. The stranded men were sunburned and starved. "They were glad to see us."
Soon after that decisive battle, Thomas and his crew were ordered to report to the cabin of a Navy admiral in charge of forces in the South Pacific. The admiral was John S. McCain, grandfather of U.S. Sen. John McCain, and he wanted to hear the crew's firsthand account.
By 1943, Thomas was flying bombing and photo reconnaissance missions over Japan's Kurile Islands. The night time flights onboard Ventura bombers were fraught with danger as the crews flew through bitter cold. Their use of photoflash bombs to light the snow-covered terrain below made them vulnerable targets. "They lit up the sky like the Fourth of July. The enemy saw the flash and started firing at us."
After one successful raid, the crew celebrated with a meal of icy sandwiches turned rock-hard in the extreme cold. Thomas was commanding his own crew by then and piloting the much larger C-54, a four-engine cargo plane that became the workhorse of the Berlin Airlift.
His plane ferried 10-ton loads of coal to the Soviet-blockaded city. He vividly recalled choking on thick clouds of coal dust that stirred up when crews off-loaded the heavy bags. He reminisced about the rewards of sweet chocolate and hot coffee from thankful German women.
Thomas remained in the service until 1962. He picked up a chest full of medals for his flying missions, including the Distinguished Flying Cross. But he never boasted. He considered himself "fortunate" to have served in some of the defining moments of World War II.
Thomas lived in West Ashley with Margaret, his wife of 40 years.
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