It took a few years to transition from milking cows to piloting the high-tech B-29 Superfortress, but by late November 1944 Jim Pafford was in command of a crew of ten men bound for India.  He had committed to the service a year prior to American involvement and trained in airplane mechanics for the better part of his first three years as an enlisted man.  Once he became an aviation cadet and earned his commission and wings, he trained on B-17s until converting to the new B-29.  It was an enormous aircraft of brilliant polished aluminum that stretched far longer and wider than the B-17.

He spent the summer of 1944 in Clovis, New Mexico training with his crew: co-pilot Donald R. Billing, navigator Noel M. Norton, and bombardier Aldo L. Falsetti were his second lieutenant contemporaries.  Their enlisted crew included two pre-war airmen: Technical Sergeant Clyde E. Green, flight engineer, and Staff Sergeant George H. Mentzer, right gunner.  The left gunner Michael J. Drensek was the only other sergeant.  The rest of the men, all corporals, were Harry P. McHenry, radio; John J. Flood Jr., radar; Ralph P. Tender, central fire control gunner, and Joseph Rakovich, tail gunner.

The eleven men were first assigned the ill-fated B-29 #42-63460 at Kearney, Nebraska. From the start, this aircraft seemed plagued by misfortune – on their first flight, they lost a spark plug; on another, a forgotten fuel cap on the right wing sent fuel spray on takeoff.  In desperation, Sergeant Drensek conscripted a Catholic priet to bless the plane after repairs, but they still leaked fuel and also suffered a fire in the rear bomb bay.  Still, they proceeded to Kharagpur and arrived at Salua, India in mid-December 1944.  They parted from their questionable aircraft which was assigned to a sister squadron and, they learned later, performed remarkably well.

For his first eight missions with 794th Bomb Squadron, Pafford swapped with Major Andy Anderson’s co-pilot and accompanied the major in his plane dubbed “Andy’s Dandy.”  On December 21st, he was off on his first combat mission to bomb the Chinese city of Tangshan.

It was not until February that the crew was reunited and with their own aircraft dubbed “My Gal Sal.”  They saw several rotations with Master Sergeant James Hass replacing Clyde Green as Flight Engineer and Bert Julian taking over left gunner from Jim Flood.  With this crew, Pafford first flew a mining mission over Cam Ranh Bay.  They stayed together with the exception of his navigator Al Falsetti.

All of their initial missions were out of India thousands of miles into China, but after they moved to West Field, Tinian in June 1945, where Rex Jorgenson joined as navigator, and from there their targets were exclusively over Japan until war’s end.  They bombed 22 square mile of industrial area in Tokyo for two days in May and in a daylight raid on the 29th flattened almost seven square miles of Yokohama.  For three days in July, the Squadron sent ten missions to firebomb more industrial targets.  For seven of the ten missions, Jim flew “My Gal Sal” into the heart of the Japanese Empire.  

In another daylight raid on July 24th, the forty-two planes of the Wing bombed the Kawanishi aircraft plant to obliterate the manufacturing of a specific danger navy fighter.  The anti-aircraft fire was thick and accurate, damaging 23 of the 42 bombers.  They held tight and dropped 245 tons of explosives on the factory, resulting in an 85-percent destruction rate.
Their most harrowing missions came when "My Gal Sal" flew as a radar countermeasure aircraft. For over ninety minutes at a time, they brazenly circled over Kure, Chiba, and Hachioji, electronic jammers blinding Japanese defenses as their wingtip cameras mapped the destruction below. Intense flak filled the sky with shattering bursts that perforated many of the ships.  Lingering black clouds from each blast drifted off while the radar counter measure crews patiently circled their targets.

As the war drew to its apocalyptic conclusion in August 1945, the 794th stood alone as the only 20th Air Force unit whose planes were scheduled and bombed the primary target on every single mission flown during the month.  Throughout these missions, Jim’s leadership style was marked by a calm trust in his crew.  With the old timers of his original crew, he departed for home.  They considered this to be a valiant feat considering the unreliable engines and other technical challenges of the sophisticated craft that cost more than the Manhattan Project.

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The letter came in the mail July 1951: “The rapid expansion of the United States Air Force has created a need for qualified personnel,” read the opening line.  His orders were to report to Camp Kilmer to later than August 10th to mobilize from reserves for active duty.  It was not guaranteed that Jim would go to Korea, but almost exactly a year later he was flying over to Okinawa for a six-month tour.

Over five years elapsed since Jim flew operationally, but at the helm of the Superfortress he felt comfortable and his motions natural.  He was as cool with his crew as he was at the controls and they appreciated this quality even if the Air Force frowned at his leniency.  He was not hard-nosed by any means, but earned great respect from his men by keeping his relaxed character from their training through combat missions over Korea. 

His calm demeanor did initially weaken his crew leadership, as at times he was not aware of what was occurring across the entire ship, but as time went on after they became operational the crew bonded into a well-functioning unit.  As far as Jim was concerned, each member was highly skilled and needed little supervision to succeed.

The navigator, John A. Grammes, was equally as relaxed as Pafford and so polite that at times would relinquish his responsibilities to the radar operator.  John was an exceptional navigator in the B-29 and despite having no previous experience in bomber type craft was able to impeccably time their arrivals whether for targets or landings.  Initially during training, Walter Quan did not totally grasp the idea of crew coordination and this might be why John would often allow him to take over his controls so appease his need to take on the responsibility.  The only officer from a rural background, Edward C. James, exhibited his skills during survival training as the only one of the lot who could procure food that was not an issued ration.

The six airmen were all volunteers, the most senior being Staff Sergeant Benjamin M. Royster.  Richard C. Daniel was the only airman 1st class.  Robert Houlas, Leland E. Dimond, Ottis L. King, and Charles S. Quinn were all rated second class.  Altogether, the officers and men created a well-rounded lot who depended greatly on each other.  Through their training they gained great respect for one another and embraced their leader's style and willingness to carry the heavy responsibility of keeping his men together and most importantly, alive.

Their first mission launched the night of July 21st when they were among twenty-eight aircraft assigned to bomb the vital Chosin Hydroelectric Plant.  Under the cover of darkness, they were to use using SHORAN (Short Range Navigation) bombing technique to strike the installation. They encountered no flak, searchlights, or aircraft over the primary target and twenty-two bombers dropped their payload on the hydroelectric plant with devastating effect. Four bombers resorted to hitting the secondary target.  Only one stricken bomber was not so fortunate, erupting into flames before dipping toward the mountainous Korean terrain and crashing.  The remains of the aircraft were later located and confirmed the entire crew was killed - a grim reminder of the stakes on Jim’s first mission since World War II.

Bomb runs followed in rapid succession. His second and third missions on July 24th and 30th targeted the Hamhung Marshaling Yards and Yangsi Oriental Light Metals.  Both were SHORAN missions.  Unlike his first mission which was relatively unopposed, these next two peppered the night sky with flak bursts.  They were heavy blasts, but inaccurate and meager.  They did spot an unknown aircraft over the railyards which took passes against the bombers before someone supposedly hit it as it trailed away with an orange glow.  

The Pafford Crew was deemed combat ready in August after completing their first three missions.  Their five combat sorties in August took them over Hoechang Ore Processing Center, Osan-ni Marshalling Yard, Anak Supply Center, Pyongyang Supply Center, and Sopo Supply Area.  Hoechang and Osan-ni were the alternate targets on the first two missions which the airborne commander accompanying the Wing decided, after evaluating the overcast skies, to bomb after flying reconnaissance over the target areas.  The flight over Sopo Supply was the most harrowing of the runs with periods of intense flak and eight searchlights sweeping across the bellies of the B-29s.

Most months continued in this fashion with night missions over supply centers, railyards, and industrial targets.  The Wing met heavy and accurate flak for once over Suho Hydroelectric plant on the night of September 12-13th.  One veteran reported, “the flak was of the box barrage type and was as good as I ever saw the Germans put up.”  This paired with excellent searchlight defense of the area and sporadic attacks from unidentified aircraft made for the most harrowing mission yet.  One aircraft was lost, believed to be from one of the unknown enemy aircraft, and the crew listed as missing in action.  Many bombers returned from Suho with vicious punctures torn through their gleaming hulls.

In October, Jim was granted with the title of being a lead crew and their campaign continued with a relentless series of strikes against logistics hubs, supply depots, and communications. Six combat sorties in October and seven in November went on with similar results.  Usually a B-29 would stay grounded for some mechanical failure and one or two would abort before the primary target.  They dropped hundreds of tons of bombs with little opposition.  Railyards, cement plants, supply areas, ore processing plants and metal works, communications centers, staff schools and headquarters were all blasted apart from the overwhelming payloads tumbling out of the night skies.  Ground fire remained sparse and few small swarms or single passes from mysterious aircraft did little to disrupt their formations.

Each morning, the crew returned to Kadena to retire to their furnished Quonset huts and enjoy the luxuries of Okinawa on non-flight days.  At last, in early January 1953, his tour completed and Pafford departed Korea with his original crew, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Though the war would grind on, the countless payloads delivered from above degraded the enemy's war-making capabilities at a critical juncture.