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MACDILL AIR FORCE BASE, Fla. - In a small one-bedroom apartment
in Clearwater, Florida, 91-year-old Russell Gackenbach sits on his
floral patterned sofa thumbing through a photo album containing
originals of some of the most iconic people and events in United
States military history.
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Russell Gackenbach, the navigator aboard the B-29 Superfortress, Necessary Evil, during the nuclear bombing mission over Hiroshima, Japan, on Aug. 6, 1945, shows a photo he took during the historic day, Clearwater, Fla., Feb 10, 2015. Gackenbach is the last surviving member from the mission. (U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Brandon Shapiro)
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"This is me and Tibbets (Col. Paul Tibbets, pilot of the
Enola Gay)," Gachenback says, as he points to two Army Air
Corps officers standing next to one another. "This was me
and Necessary Evil, the plane I flew on as we dropped the
bomb on Hiroshima."
 Gackenbach
was a second lieutenant aircraft navigator and photographer who flew
into the heart of Japan on Aug. 6, 1945, as Little Boy, a
9,000-pound uranium-235 atomic bomb was dropped onto Hiroshima,
Japan. The significance of this event is immeasurable, as it was the
first time a nuclear device had been used as a wartime strategy,
which ultimately led to Japan agreeing to an unconditional surrender
on Aug. 14, 1945, and the end of World War II.
"In September of 1944, we were approached by a colonel who
stressed that he was 'forming an elite group that was to be made up
from the best in the Air Force,'" said Gackenbach. "The missions
were to be dangerous and if anyone was not able to deal with the
secrecy of the group, they may leave, because what you see here,
when you leave here, must stay here."
Gackenbach stayed with the group.
The group trained for
nearly a year - dropping what they called "pumpkins," which were the
same weight as the atom bomb, but had slightly different
characteristics. Preparation missions continued all the way up until
Aug. 5, 1945, the day prior to the dropping of the first atomic
bomb.
On Aug. 5, the crews scheduled for the bombing mission
were called to a special briefing. Here, they were given only the
information needed for the flight - route and individual job
assignments. Few knew exactly what was aboard the plane.
"We
did not know what type of bomb we had; did not know what type of
blast to expect; did not know the effect off it," said Gackenbach.
"The only thing we were told was, 'don't fly through the cloud.'"
As we approached Hiroshima on Aug. 6, 1945, the Enola Gay and
The Great Artiste went forward, as we stayed behind and did a
looping 360 degree turn, recounts Gackenbach. When we came out of
the turn, the radios went dead; and when the radio went dead, we
were alerted, "Bomb bay doors open, bombs away."
Shortly
after, the Enola Gay and The Great Artiste made diving turns to the
right, to get as far away from the bomb as they could. As for
Gackenbach and Necessary Evil, because they lagged the first two
aircraft, the bomb exploded, on time, in front of them.
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Necessary Evil, B-29 Superfortress used during the bombing of Hiroshima, Japan, on Aug. 6, 1945. (Courtesy photo)
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"The delay between our aircraft was planned; we were to document
the event," said Gackenbach. "The photographs seen around the world
were ones I had taken approximately one minute after detonation, at
a height of 30,000 feet, roughly 16 miles from the city."
From the time the mission began until the time the crews returned,
they knew that this was no ordinary bombing mission.
"We were
awestruck; we didn't know what to say, or do, or anything. We made
three turns around the cloud and headed home to Tinian," said
Gackenbach. "I did not hear the word atomic until the next day."
The significance of the event was unclear until days later, when
the crews were shown photographs of Hiroshima - that is when they
truly understood the devastation of their mission.
"Looking
back at the event 70 years later, I still believe the right decision
was made and I think that President Truman knew that as well," said
Gackenbach. "Can you imagine if people found out that we had this
capability and did not use it?"
To this day, you can still
find Gackenbach, the lone-surviving member from the first atomic
bombing, traveling from school to school, city to city, shaking
hands and giving his firsthand account from one of the most defining
moments in U.S. military history. Ask him if he would do things over
and he'll tell you, "I do not regret the part I played in it; it was
the right decision."
By U.S. Air Force Tech. Sgt. Brandon Shapiro
Provided
through DVIDS
Copyright 2015
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