Frank Edward Vidmar was born on April 9, 1920 in Chisholm, Minnesota, where he spent his childhood

years. After a career of serving our country in the Armed Forces, he retired from Travis Air Force Base,
California. Frank was married to his wife, Jean, for 41 years before she passed away in 1991. Frank has
five children, twelve grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Frank currently spends his time with his
sons families in both Vacaville and Dixon, California.

Over Land And Sea

My Fathers WWII Story
Lt. Colonel Frank E. Vidmar retired as a career pilot from the U.S. Air Force. His journey
to becoming a military aviator, however, surprisingly started during the Second World
War while he was an able-bodied seaman with the Merchant Marines.
In February of 1942, Frank was on the oil tanker, MS Sun, and their ship left New Jersey
heading for Long Beach, California to fill up with fuel for the war effort. While sailing in
the Caribbean Sea, on their way to the West Coast through the Panama Canal, a German
U-Boat spotted them. The submarine, very difficult to spot when submerged in attack
mode, fired a torpedo while Frank was at the ships bow on watch duty.
The torpedo made a direct hit on its target and exploded underneath the MS Suns bridge.
It blew a hole in its side and caused the vessel to list in the water. For an unsettling
moment Frank wondered if the ship would keel all the way over and sink. When the
explosion occurred he heard an immense bang and saw a long, thick steel cable attached
to the ships mast completely snap loose and go whizzing through the air on a potentially
deadly free flight.
Because the ship had not yet filled up with fuel at their port of destination, the multiple
containers on the oil tanker were empty. Thus, in what was incredibly providential, there
wasn't a secondary explosion of massive burning fuel that would have, in all likelihood,
destroyed the entire ship, as well as taken the lives of those on board.
After the torpedo hit, Frank heard the captain yell and urgently motion for everyone to
get to the lifeboats and abandon ship. Frank, as he was the farthest away from the crew at
the far end of the ships bow, made haste and joined them in the lifeboats. Remarkably
none of the crew was injured from the torpedos impact and explosion or from the
enormous flying steel cable. The men deployed their lifeboats and waited for the ship to
go down. Amazingly, though, it never sunk, and after waiting and watching for a
considerable time, the order was given to re-board the damaged vessel in an attempt to
salvage it.
After the crew re-boarded the MS Sun, they pumped seawater into the empty side tanks
on the opposite side of the torpedo damage to equalize the ships ballast, as it was still
listing considerably. From there they slowly made their way, albeit resting lower in the
water, to the Caribbean island of Aruba for repairs.
In Aruba, the ships repairs took a couple of weeks to complete. After finally setting sail
again, instead of continuing on to California, the MS Sun made its way back to where

their journey began. Upon arriving in New Jersey, Frank stated that it was typical of
seaman with the Merchant Marines, who fulfilled their obligations on a particular ship, to
be released from further commitments. So he had a choice to make on whether to reenlist
for a new assignment on the MS Sun or sign up for a mission on a different vessel.
At that moment Frank made a strategic decision that would affect the rest of his life. He
decided that he didn't want to be a seaman on a ship anymore, as a potential target for
subs, but would instead rather be flying high above the dangers of German U-Boats. So
he left the Merchant Marines and enlisted in the Army Air Corps, later to become known
as the U.S. Air Force.
Frank went to Stamford and Waco, Texas where he spent seven months going through
Primary, Basic and Advanced Pilot Training. Next it was on to Tucson, Arizona, and he
finally ended his training in Pueblo, Colorado flying simulated bombing runs.
Lieutenant Vidmar was then ordered to California where he left from San Francisco and
traveled to Hawaii before ending up in the South Pacific at Guadalcanal. He was assigned
to the 424th Bombardment Squadron, 307th Bomb Group, flying the B-24 Liberator.
Franks departure date for overseas service was November 1943; one year from the time
he started his pilot training.
It should be noted that U.S. Army Air Corps pilots were assigned to fly either in Europe
or in the Pacific in the fight against Japan. By this point of the war on the European front,
where the German Luftwaffe didn't dominate the air as much as in earlier years, there
were quite a few American pilots who surprisingly would rather have flown in Europe,
although they werent offered that choice. This was because the bombers in the Pacific
had to spend so many long hours flying their missions over vast stretches of open water.
The 307th Bomb Group that his squadron belonged to were known as the "The Long
Rangers" due to their flying long distance missions over hundreds of miles of open
stretches of the Pacific. Some of the lengthier missions that the 307th flew exceeded well
over 12 hours of flying time with nothing but open water beneath them. If a bomber went
down in this vast region of the Pacific, or a crew bailed out, there wasnt a very good
probability of survival or recovery.
Frank Vidmar flew a total of 42 active combat missions in the B-24 Liberator. It was on
his first mission, January 7, 1944, however, that very well could have been his last. Army
Air Corps pilots had to fly their first mission as an observer before they were given a
plane and crew of their own. So Frank was assigned to be the observer, or third pilot," as
they were called, to experience live combat. Everything started out well on this bombing
run and they deployed their ordnances on their target at Vunakanau, an island outside of
Rabal, Papua New Guinea.
While over the South Pacific on their way back to base, the crew noticed they were very
low on fuel with nothing left in the reserve tanks of the B-24. In short, they were in
serious trouble. Frank Vidmar states that it was never known if this was because there

was a mechanical malfunction in the engine, or airmen on base made an error and didn't
properly refuel all the tanks before they left on their mission, or if flak from enemy antiaircraft fire put a hole in the tank and caused their fuel reserves to leak out. Nevertheless,
they were rapidly running out of time and had to prepare to crash land. Or, as the Air
Force succinctly calls it in the remarks section of Franks official flying record, make a
"water landing."
Lt. Frank Vidmar was flying as the 11th man in the standard 10 man B-24 Liberator
crew. Thus, he was the odd man out since there was no place for him to safely secure
himself as they prepared for a crash landing in the ocean. So he left the cockpit and went
towards the back section of the plane where he squeezed in and positioned himself
between two of his crewmembers, the left and right waist gunners. It was obviously not
the safest position to be in. But the two crewmen, who were securely strapped in with
their harnesses, kindly offered for Frank to interlock arms with theirs, as they would try
and support him when they crashed.
Amongst the many miles of ocean they were fortunate in being able to spot an island
before their fuel completely ran dry. The pilot made plans to crash the airplane in the
water as close to this island as possible since there was no place on it for them to land. In
fact, it would have been suicide to try, although crash landing in the rough ocean water
was also extremely risky. But it was their only chance for survival.
As the large bomber, still traveling at a very high rate of speed, crashed into the sea, the
two waist gunners holding onto Frank obviously had not worked out as the seat belt
harnesses they intended to be, and the laws of physics took over. Upon crashing, Frank
disappeared from their sight as he went flying head first through the bottom of the
fuselage that had ripped open upon impact. He doesnt remember anything but being
propelled downward into the churning, murky ocean.
Frank was stunned but kicked hard and finally ended up surfacing and breathing air once
again. Quite unexpectedly, however, he ended up back inside the damaged B-24, which
was beginning to fill with water and sink. After coming up through the aircrafts torn
underside, Frank looked around and saw his fellow crewmen, the left and right waist
gunners, throwing their survival gear out of the side opening of the plane.
I can just imagine what these men must have been thinking after crashing. Frank
disappearing into the ocean from their interlocked arms, and then quite incredibly
reappearing very much alive from the depths, reminiscent of the biblical account of Jonah
coming out of the sea. Frank thus joined with the crew in making good their escape from
the aircraft.
The entire bomber crew got to their life rafts and made it safely to the island, only a short
distance from the crash site, grateful to be alive. The mortally wounded plane sank
shortly thereafter. The only injury to the crew, besides being somewhat shaken from the
crash landing, was the co-pilot who suffered a gash on his forehead.

Fortunately, the marooned crew saw no enemy soldiers on this part of the island.
Otherwise their story might have had a very different ending, as cruel and vicious
treatment of captured allied prisoners during the Pacific War is well documented.
There were so many circumstances that had to go just right for Franks survival that it
would not be hyperbole to say it was a miracle. First and foremost, the pilot did an
excellent job of bringing the B-24 down in the ocean. That feat alone was quite an
amazing accomplishment.
Upon crash-landing, as Lt. Vidmar was being propelled like a rocket into the seawater,
his body could have easily been shredded by hitting the jagged metal portion on the
bottom edges of the ripped apart plane, much like the sharp edges of the lid of an open
can. Or just as easily, Frank could have smashed his head on the fuselage and shattered
his spine.
For all intents and purposes, he should have, by all means, been knocked unconscious
and drown upon slamming into the water because of the violent force of his entry.
Somehow God's hand was with him and all the bomber crew, and they survived this
ordeal.
By the time the men arrived on the shore of the island it was late in the day. They built a
small fire, trying not to alert any enemy who could potentially have seen them. Frank
states that they never did find out if there were Japanese solders that occupied any other
part of the island, but they had no intention of going out and looking for them. The
crewmen proceeded to set up camp near the beach hoping and praying for help to arrive.
Before crash landing, they had been fortunate in being able to send out a Mayday signal,
and the broadcast had been picked up by a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier more than a hundred
miles away near Munda, Solomon Islands. Navy aircraft were dispatched from the carrier
to locate the missing crewmen.
The next day the Navy planes, coming from the carrier, arrived over the island and the
crew was able to signal them. Frank said that it caused all of them to pause when they
first spotted the search planes coming toward them in the distance, as they were hoping
they werent enemy planes. To their immense relief the planes were American, and they
were looking for them. They spotted the stranded crews signal and dipped their wings
showing that they had seen them. The Navy aircraft sent the exact coordinates of the
missing B-24 crew back to the carrier and then returned to the ship.
A PBY floatplane, designed to land on water, was arranged to pick up the crew. It meant
staying longer on the island until the rescue plane arrived to pick them up, but they were
able to stay safe and remain undetected by the enemy, while living off emergency rations.
The following day the floatplane found them, landed on the water, and took the crewmen
back to the aircraft carrier where they were returned to base.

When a plane went down during the war, the surviving crew was given time for rest and
recuperation. Thus, after getting back to base, Frank said their entire crew was offered the
opportunity to spend a week in Sydney, Australia, recovering from their ordeal. All the
crewmembers gladly accepted this offer for much needed recuperation. That is, all except
for Lt. Vidmar, who said that he wasn't about to go on leave to Australia because this was
merely his first combat mission, and as a third pilot observer, at that. He wanted to fly.
Two days later on January 12, 1944, Frank was assigned his own B-24 Liberator and
crew and flew a successful mission to Rabaul.
Lt. Frank Vidmars 42nd and final combat mission piloting the B-24 took place on June
19, 1944. He flew to the Truk Islands for a successful strike. Frank doesn't remember or
say much about his many missions during the war or remark about the number of times
that he narrowly escaped death. Or even, as the records indicate in the 13th Army Air
Force news release (see attached), comment on the fact that he had to fly and land his
damaged plane with just three working engines, which was a very hazardous way to bring
in a plane.
The Air Force press release also indicates that on Lt. Vidmars return flight back to base
from one particular mission, they had their B-24 hit the runway for a safe landing with
one engine shot out by enemy fire along with having a flat tire. On yet another occasion,
Frank flew for five hours on three engines while going through two turbulent weather
fronts, as their plane was alone and separated from their fellow bombers. No easy feat!
There is one moment, though, still etched in Franks memory more than seventy years
later that happened on one particular mission on their way back from a bombing run to
the Truk Islands. A fellow B-24, flying as the number two man in formation with Franks
plane as the number one, took a direct hit from a Japanese Zero fighter plane. Frank saw
the B-24s number four engine catch fire. It was a deadly situation for any plane and
crew, and the wounded bomber, still on fire, disappeared from Franks vision in the
cockpit. Lt. Vidmars crewmen, however, still watched as the plane slowly sank into the
depths.
Frank said that none of the crew on that fateful bomber made it back to base. There was
absolutely nothing that could be done for them but to continue on and complete their
assignment. At any time and on any given mission that is how quickly the end could
come for the brave men of the skies during WWII.
As is common with most of those from what has been fittingly called, The Greatest
Generation, Frank Vidmar states that during the war he was only doing his job. He is
quick to dismiss any notion that what he did, or the sacrifices he made, even at such a
young age, was heroic. To this day he minimizes the part he had in the war, or any of the
commendations and medals he received from it.
Frank Vidmar is my father. Im proud to be called his son. His story is one among many
that can still be told from the brave men and women of the Greatest Generation. With the
passing of time they are rapidly leaving us; so few of them still among us today. May

their stories though, like this one from our heroes of yesterday, continue to challenge and
inspire a new generation of men and women, who would be as determined and resolute in
strength and character, in propelling us toward a hopeful tomorrow.
Rick Vidmar
November 2015

First Lt. Frank Vidmar, standing on the far right, with his crew in front of a B-24 Liberator during WWII

Lt. Colonel Frank E. Vidmar, Nov. 1966

Frank Vidmars Forty-Two combat missions flown in the South Pacific during WWII

13th Army Air Force Public Relations Press Release p.1

13th Army Air Force Public Relations Press Release p.2

Able Seaman Frank Vidmars commendation on torpedoed ship MS Sun

Lt. Col Frank E. Vidmar Air Force Retirement Papers

President Harry S. Truman Certificate of Appreciation to WWII Veterans

Frank Vidmar today in his mid 90s

Frank and one of his granddaughters, Christina