My grandfather fought in both theaters of the war. My great uncle, Phil Schalmberg (his wife's brother), is recognized as the last pilot to be killed in the war, the very day of the Japanese surrender.
Jerry Yellin
U.S. Army Air Corps
Jerry on Iwo Jima, April 1945.
Born: 1924
Residence:
Vero Beach, FL
United States
Original home:
Newark, NJ
United States
Jerry's P-51 taking off from Iwo in April, 1945.
Phil Schlamberg, lost over Japan on the day the war ended.
My memories of August 14, 1945 are very clear. I flew P-51's from Iwo Jima over Japan during WWII as a 21-year old Captain and Flight leader.
On August 6, I returned from a mission when LT. Phil Maher jumped on my wing and shouted, "We dropped one bomb and wiped out a city, it's over!"
There was a sense of relief in the entire squadron. No more 8-hour missions. No more guys being killed. We had survived. Our motto "Back Alive in 45," seemed to have been fulfilled.
But it wasn't to be.
A notice was posted in the ready room on August 13, with our assignments for the next day's mission. The briefing would start at 1600 hours.
Major Jim Tapp, squadron commander, stood in front of the map of Japan and started to talk, "Why another mission?" someone called out. Tapp responded,"We have to keep them honest. We will take off at 0800 but I doubt we will reach the target before the war is called off. If you hear the code word OHIO, we will abort the mission and return to HOTROCKS (the code name for Iwo Jima)."
I was scheduled to lead Blue flight. Phil Schlamberg, a 19-year old pilot from Brooklyn, NY, was my wingman. Schlamberg, sitting next to me, leaned over, and said, "Captain, if I go, I won't come back."
Startled, I said, "Why?"
"Just a feeling I have."
When the briefing ended, I approached Tapp, told him what Schlamberg told me and asked if there was a replacement. "There isn't anyone to take his place, Jerry. Doc Lewis can get him off if there is a medical reason and Schlamberg agrees," Tapp replied.
When I asked Phil, he said, "No way."
On the morning of the mission, I told Phil, "Just stay close on my wing, tuck it in tight, you'll be OK. We will probably abort before we reach the target."
No one heard the code word before we dropped our wing tanks and started strafing airfields near Tokyo. Phil was on my wing while we strafed our targets and on my wing when we started back. I gave him a thumbs-up and led the flight into some clouds. When we emerged into clear skies, Phil was gone, no radio transmission, no visual contact, just gone.
When we landed back at Iwo, we learned that the war had been over for three hours while we were over Japan.
In my mind Phil Schlamberg was the last man killed on a fighter mission over Japan and may very well have been the last man killed in combat in a war that took the lives of 60 million people."
Phil's modern ancestors include myself and my second cousin ScarJo.