They thought he was dead after the crash, minutes later, his one-winged ghost jet returned to strike

At 08:20 on June 14, 1944, Lieutenant Edward Fightner climbed into the cockpit of his F6F-5P Hellcat on the flight deck of the USS Bunker Hill. Deck crews were bolting a massive, 300-pound K17 camera into his rear fuselage. Intelligence had a simple name for his mission over the Japanese-held Marianas: a “death trap.”

Admiral Mark Mitscher didn’t want high-altitude reconnaissance. He wanted low-altitude, high-resolution photos of gun placements, radar nests, and ammunition dumps. This required flying at 4,000 feet or lower—well within the range of the 43 Type 88 anti-aircraft guns the Japanese had positioned to track aircraft with radar-laid precision. Photo recon pilots in this campaign faced a staggering 37% casualty rate.

Fightner, 24, was the squadron’s engineering officer. He understood the “Grumman Iron Works” philosophy—that Hellcats were built to be tanks with wings. But today, he would push that philosophy to the breaking point.

PART I: THE EXPLOSION AT 4,000 FEET

At 09:24, the first 88mm shell detonated 40 feet below Fightner’s aircraft. The second was closer. The third was a direct hit.

The explosion tore through the aft fuselage. Shrapnel shredded the tail assembly. The rudder trim mechanism shattered, and the left horizontal stabilizer—the wing-like structure at the tail that provides stability—simply disintegrated. The elevator on the left side snapped off and vanished into the slipstream.

The Hellcat lurched violently to the right. Fightner fought the stick, but his left rudder was gone. He was flying a fighter with half its tail missing over enemy territory. Most pilots would have turned for the carrier immediately. Fightner looked down at the Ushi Point airfield. He had flown 130 miles to get here. The invasion force landing in two weeks needed these photos to survive.

Fightner didn’t turn back. He pushed the nose down.

PART II: THE “IMPOSSIBLE” REVENGE

The Japanese gunners were tracking him at 4,000 feet. They did not expect a catastrophically damaged Hellcat to dive toward them at 320 mph. Fightner leveled off at a terrifying 500 feet.

He was flying with constant right stick and heavy left rudder just to prevent the aircraft from flipping. He flew directly over the guns that were shooting at him, the K17 camera clicking away, capturing every ammunition dump and radar dish.

Then, at 09:37, a fourth shell hit.

This explosion struck the left wing fold—the weakest structural point where the wing hinges for carrier storage. The shell detonated, and eight feet of his left wing was torn off.

Now, Fightner was flying an aerodynamic nightmare:

1. 50% of his left wing was gone.

2. 50% of his tail surfaces were destroyed.

3. 170 shrapnel holes peppered his fuselage.

The Hellcat rolled hard left. With 8 feet of wing missing, the lift was asymmetric. Fightner had three seconds to solve a physics problem that should have ended in a terminal spin. He slammed the stick hard right and stomped on the right rudder. He discovered that by maintaining a continuous, high-speed right slip at 280 mph, the drag on the right side created enough rolling moment to counteract the missing left wing.

PART III: THE 130-MILE CRAMP

The flight back to the USS Bunker Hill took 43 minutes. For every single second of those 43 minutes, Fightner had to maintain full right stick and full right rudder deflection.

By minute 20, his right arm went numb. By minute 30, his right leg began to cramp so violently that the muscle fibers were literally tearing. He was trimming the aircraft with pure muscle and raw concentration. The Pratt & Whitney R-2800 engine, despite taking 11 shrapnel hits and losing oil pressure, kept roaring—a testament to Grumman’s redundant engineering.

As the Bunker Hill appeared on the horizon, Fightner faced his final hurdle. A standard carrier landing involves a descending left-hand turn—a move that would be fatal in his current configuration. Any left bank would accelerate his roll into the sea.

PART IV: THE ZERO-MARGIN LANDING

The Air Boss cleared the deck. The Landing Signal Officer (LSO) stood ready. Fightner radioed for a “straight-in” approach—no turns, no patterns.

He crossed the ramp at 92 mph. At that slow speed, his rudder authority vanished. The aircraft began to roll left at 5 degrees per second. He pushed through the agonizing leg cramp, forcing the right rudder down. The main wheels touched the deck, the tailhook caught the Number Two wire, and the Hellcat slammed to a halt just 30 feet from the crash barrier.

Fightner sat in the cockpit for 15 seconds. He couldn’t move his arm. He couldn’t move his leg. He had to be lifted out of the seat.

PART V: THE GRUMMAN IRON WORKS REALITY

The damage assessment took 47 minutes and left seasoned maintenance crews in shock.

• The Left Wing: Missing 8 feet of structure. The main spar was fractured.

• The Tail: 70% of the horizontal stabilizer was gone; the elevator was missing.

• The Fuselage: 170 holes counted.

• The Engine: 11 hits, including shrapnel in three cylinders and a punctured oil cooler.

The aircraft was a total loss and was pushed overboard into 12,000 feet of water. But the K17 camera was intact.

The photos Fightner took showed 37 unidentified anti-aircraft positions and 12 operational radar sites. Intelligence estimated those photos saved between 200 and 400 Marine lives during the invasion of Tinian. Naval gunfire was able to neutralize the exact guns that had tried to kill Fightner before the first troop transport hit the sand.

EPILOGUE: THE 100-YEAR LEGACY

Edward Fightner didn’t just survive the war; he became one of the Navy’s most legendary figures. He went on to become a premier test pilot, the lead solo for the Blue Angels, and eventually a Rear Admiral. He was a key architect in the design of the F-14 Tomcat, always pushing for the “survivability-first” engineering he had relied on in 1944.

Fightner lived to be 100 years old, passing away in 2020. He outlived the Bunker Hill, he outlived his squadron mates, and he outlived the Grumman factory. But the lesson of June 14, 1944, remains: Engineering priority determines who wins the war of attrition.

The Japanese prioritized performance and speed; their pilots died when hit. The Americans prioritized armor and structural redundancy; their pilots, like Edward Fightner, came home to tell the story.

Note: Some content was generated using AI tools (ChatGPT) and edited by the author for creativity and suitability for historical illustration purposes.