Just after landfall that day, Orr and his Crew 30 had trouble with an engine, but they refused to abandon the mission and went on to the target just before bombs away, a direct flak hit struck another engine and put it out of commission.

Then, shortly after land's end, the propeller broke from the engine that had first given trouble and struck the B-29's fuselage with great force. A gaping hole was torn in the airplane, placing it in imminent danger of breaking up in the air.

Working from the right side of the plane, Qrr and his pilot, Lieutenant Monte Frodsham, were able to bring the bomber under some measure of control and to maintain flight through some five hundred miles of turbulent frontal weather on instruments in a right-wing-low, nose-down attitude.

The B-29 was in perilous condition with accumulated damage now amounting to the loss of two engines, a flak hit in the third, damage to the flight controls and the hole in the fuselage. As a matter of fact, whenever Bill Orr pulled back on the controls the whole plane would bend and the crew thought that it must surely fall apart in mid-air.

After flying for several hours in this extremely dangerous state, the plane finally came out of the overcast and sighted a small-uninhabited island. There Orr ordered the crew to bail out.

Then one of the bravest acts of the 39th Group's history took place. The flight engineer couldn't swim, so Monte Frodsham took him on his back and jumped from the stricken plane. Monte hoped that he would be able to assist the engineer when they got into the water. But the force of the air tore the man from the pilot's back and they fell separately.

Orr remained with his plane and was the last to leave. Although he was barely managing to stay in flight with the one engine he had left, he refused to bail out until he was sure that all his men were out safely. He circled the spot where they had jumped until he saw them all in the water, and then, despite the fact that the B-29 was rapidly losing altitude and might blow up at any moment, he flew it away from the vicinity so that it could not possibly hit any of the survivors in the water when it crashed.

Then Bill jumped at a dangerously low altitude. He got into the water safely and was later picked up, along with the other men, by Navy rescue facilities.

And in connection with the rescue, there is another remarkable story to tell...

Staff Sergeant James E. Schwoegler, Orr's radio operator, had stayed in the crippled plane until the last minute to assure himself that the ground station received his position report of the bail out.

The Navy sent a rescue submarine immediately, and Captain Robert S. Laak of Crew 45 (62nd Squadron) took off in a B-29 to help locate Crew 30's survivors.

Laak got the vicinity of Orr's bailout on 2 June. A B-17 had already dropped the men a Higgins lifeboat, after sighting them the day before. But, shortly after Laak and his crew left Iwo Jima, the weather closed in to such an extent that the entire search mission, which lasted about ten hours, was flown on instruments at altitudes varying from 100 to 500 feet.

On the approach to the vicinity where the survivors had been seen, Sergeant Lloyd W. Dunnet, Laak's radio operator, made contact with two submarines, one of which was eventually directed to the survivors.

Orr and his crew were close to Sofu Gan Island, a bare rock jutting straight out of the ocean.

This island was a dangerous obstacle to Laak's flying, for available maps did not show its altitude.

However, it was picked up by radar and shortly thereafter an SOS from Off's Gibson Girl was picked up on the radio compass.

Laak was at low altitude in a complete overcast and could not see a thing. But he persisted in his efforts to find the survivors and direct the sub to them. He homed on the SOS until the signal would fade out, and then he would circle in that area until he could pick up the signal again. Then he would home on it again, and gradually, after hours spent in this sort of thing, he was sure that he was right over the men in the water. At this time the altimeter indicated 200 feet, but the overcast was so thick that the surface of the water could not be seen.

Laak's radar observer, Lieutenant Edward M. Coon, plotted the position where he was sure the Higgins boat was. This information was transmitted to the submarine nearest the spot. Then the B-29 continued to circle the position where the survivors were and to give instructions to the sub.

Finally Laak and his men received word from the submarine that the men of Orr's crew were safely aboard.

Although the elapsed time from Laak's receipt of the first SOS from the Gibson Girl until the rescue was effected was about four hours, and their airplane was always at an extremely low altitude in the neighborhood of Sofu Gan, the men in the Superfortress not once made a visual sighting of the crew they were so instrumental in saving.

For their expert work on this occasion, Captain Laak, his radio operator, his radar observer and his navigator, Lieutenant Wilbur W. Wiley, were all given the Distinguished Flying Cross. Likewise the commander of the submarine that picked up Orr's crew paid high tribute to Laak and his crew by stating that their performance was the finest aircraft to submarine cooperation that he had ever received.

When Orr and his crew came back to Guam their story finally came to the ears of General Spaatz. So greatly did he esteem the bravery of Bill Orr and his magnificent accomplishment that, in a special ceremony at his headquarters, he presented Captain Orr with the second highest decoration given by the United States - the Distinguished Service Cross.

The citation read: "For extraordinary heroism in action on 1 June 1945." And it concluded, "Captain Orr's intrepidity, magnificent airmanship and gallant leadership reflect the highest credit on himself and the Army Air Forces."