Mystery of missing WWII pilot may be solved

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The boys had raised their little brother themselves because therewere no parents left to look after him.

They'd fed him first, given him loving nicknames — Lefty,Tully — and placed all their hopes with him.

But then, on Nov. 10, 1943, Lt. Francis McIntyre, who had lived inLongview with his brothers, was gone.

The plane he was flying lost control during a bombing run on a BukaIsland Japanese air base in the Solomon Islands and disappearedinto the smoke. Neither the two-man bomber, nor the 25-year-old'sremains, were found.

In the years that followed, the surviving McIntyre brothers —Cornelius, Donald, Mathew and Joseph — would quietly mourn.Their children would hear often of Uncle Francis — and ofanother brother, Angus John, who died in Germany — and knowthe war had taken something precious from them.

Now, years after each of the McIntyre brothers have grown old anddied, Francis, who would have been 90 on Wednesday, finally may becoming home.

In February, the Post Courier, a Papua New Guinea newspaper,reported that a man had been digging near a garbage dump on BukaIsland when he discovered a U.S. Navy plane. Among the wreckage,the newspaper said, were human remains and a dog tag.

The Web site PacificWrecks.com , which tracks such discoveries, said the dog tag reads,"Francis Bernard McIntyre."

The U.S. Joint POW-MIA Accounting Command, the agency charged withrecovering the remains of lost U.S. military personnel, declined totalk about the discovery last week, saying it did not yet havepermission from the pilot's family to release information about thecase.

"We did receive some remains, unilaterally turned over bycitizens," a JPAC spokesman said. "We are now preparing arecovery mission for that area."

The news has stirred the the McIntyre brothers' children —the lost pilot's nephews and nieces — who live largely up anddown the West Coast. They're hoping this, in fact, is their uncle,and that by bringing his remains home, they can pay tribute to himand to their fathers.

John McIntyre, Mathew McIntyre's son and an employee of a civiliancontractor for the military in Dubai, has no doubts his uncle hasbeen found.

"The crash site is precisely where it's reported to be,"he said. "I think all the evidence is there. It seems to bethat even the serial numbers on the plane match."

'Something I didn't eat'

To understand what it meant to lose Francis, the McIntyre familysays, you have to know how and why the brothers bonded. They'd hada difficult start, living in Mitchell, S.D. The boys' mother,Kathryn, died in 1924 of what was said to be uterine cancer,although Mathew McIntyre later told his children that his mothermay have simply withered from exhaustion after years of caring forher boys on the barren prairie.

Before she passed, the boys, all good Catholics, knelt around theirmother's bed, John McIntyre said. "She was weaving in and outof consciousness and begging God to look after her babies."

When she was gone, her sister, May Cameron, came from Detroit. Shetook the youngest of the brothers, Angus John, who was just a baby,back to Michigan and adopted him. May, who had no children, hadwanted to adopt the other boys, too, John said, but their fatherwouldn't allow it.

That left Mathew, just 10, to care for the younger ones. DonaldSenior, the boys' father, was an entrepreneurial type who wasn'taround much. The oldest of the boys, Donald Junior, had gone tolive, at least for a time, with another family.

Mathew would tell his son years later that his childhood ended theday his mother died.

The boys toughed it out through the Great Depression, winters withno heat, little food and scant money. They worked odd jobs,sometimes selling ice cream cones for a small profit.

Donald Junior once explained a stomach ache by saying, "Mustbe something I didn't eat." And when Mathew scrapped togetherenough change for a candy bar, he took it home, split it into equalpieces, and gave it to his brothers. Eating it all himself wasunthinkable.

"They all took care of each other before they cared aboutthemselves," said Francis "Tully" McIntyre, whosefather, Joe McIntyre, named him for his lost brother.

"No matter what they had or how much they had, they thought ofthe others first."

With Angus John being raised in Detroit, Francis, who was 6 whenhis mother died, was the baby of the family. The brothers shieldedhim from the hardship as best they could. They made sure he atefirst, scooted him off to school, even let him stare off anddaydream while the others worked on a car.

"Don, my Dad and Joe just decided one of them had to have thebetter life," John McIntyre said. "One of them deservednot to have to struggle so hard. Francis was the obviouschoice."

The boys' father died in 1934 and, about a year later, they set outto join their oldest brother, Cornelius, who was married and livingin Longview.

Don, Mathew, Joe and Francis, who would have been about 17, alllived in an apartment together.

They found jobs, some of them in the mills.

"They did well," Tully McIntyre said. "They thrivedfor probably the first time in their lives. They wore new, adequateclothes. They had a warm meal on the table every night. ... Theyalways talked about their time together there. It was quitepossibly one of the best times in their lives."

Francis attended Lower Columbia College. His yearbook from 1939says he served as his class vice president in 1937, playedbasketball and baseball and participated in a host of otheractivities.

When World War II broke out the brothers were separated for thefirst time in a long while.

Mathew served with the Army and Don served with a Navalconstruction battalion. Angus John flew with a B-17 squadron withthe 8th Air Force over Europe. He would later die when his bomberwas hit over Germany, and would be buried in Belgium. Joe was thelead bombardier with a B-26 squadron in the 9th Air Force. AndFrancis flew a two-man bomber called the SBD-5 Dauntless for theNavy.

A boy lost, Francis, 24 and just learning to fly a small bomber,sent a letter to Mathew on Feb. 1, 1943. His aircraft carrier hadjust been commissioned, he wrote, and his flying skills wereprogressing. "It is really fun dive-bombing ... and so far myscores have been as good as anyone else's.... By the time youreceive this letter and answer it I'll probably be out on the highseas someplace."

He signed the letter "Riley." He used the nicknamebecause his brothers had given him "the life of Riley."

Nine months later, on Nov. 17, 1943, Francis' squadron commanderdispatched a letter saying Francis had disappeared over BukaIsland.

Francis, the letter said, was leading a division of planes in anattack on a Japanese-held airfield in the northern Solomon Islandson Nov. 10, 1943. He had dropped his bomb load, hit the target, andwas flying low when "his plane was seen to pass through theblast of a large explosion on the enemy base," the lettersaid. Another pilot said Francis' plane "appeared to go out ofcontrol."

The McIntyre family believes an exploding munitions dump damagedFrancis' plane.

The pilot who witnessed the incident assumed the plane had crashed.But since no one actually saw it hit the ground, Francis and hisco-pilot were listed as missing in action.

This, the letter said, had been Francis' fourth flight in enemyterritory. Francis, it said, "led his division skillfully andwith good effect on each of them."

Eileen McIntyre, Mathew McIntyre's widow, who lives in Boise, saidher husband had big dreams for Francis.

"He had so many plans for him," she said. "All theboys thought he would succeed more in life than any of them."

That the brothers had coddled Francis made his death all the moretragic, John McIntyre said.

"There went their hopes for him, not to mention the loss of abrother," he said.

After learning that Francis had disappeared, Joe, still a leadbombardier in a B-26 group over Europe, is said to have writtenmessages on the ordnance that fell from his plane: "ForFrancis."

Decades later, Joe suffered from dementia and often couldn'trecognize his family members. But tears streamed his face wheneversomeone mentioned Francis. "He would use his hands to startsimulating aerial tactics," John said.

For years, Joe, who flew more than 60 bombing missions over Europe,felt somehow responsible for Francis' death. Joe insisted he shouldhave reminded his brother not to circle back over the drop site, todrop his bombs and get out of there. He apparently never knew thatFrancis, in fact, never doubled back, that the exploding munitionscache had instead damaged the younger McIntyre's plane.

"My father shouldered responsibility for Francis' death allhis life," said Tully McIntyre, who lives in Seattle.

On both Francis' and Angus John McIntyre's birthdays, MathewMcIntyre would fly a flag for his lost brothers.

"It affected them their entire life," said KathyMcIntyre, Mathew McIntyre's daughter. "They had been so closeall their lives and survived with so little. That was a huge lossto them."

When he was younger, Francis "Tully" McIntyre didn'tappreciate that he'd been named for his uncle. Francis, of course,isn't an easy name for a boy to grow up with.

But that changed several years ago, Tully said, when he, his wifeand Joe were visiting on his boat in Elliott Bay in Seattle. Joehad never said much about the war. But now he started talking. Hespoke of missions during which men aboard his plane were killed byanti-aircraft fire. Joe, Tully said, cried as he talked aboutbombing a hospital believed to be a munitions factory. He also saidhis squadron had attacked a troop train, killing as many as 5,000German soldiers in a single afternoon.

"That was the day I realized how much naming me after hisbrother meant," Tully said.

Francis' survivors have yet to decide where their uncle, if thisindeed is him, should be buried. Some suggest Francis might be laidto rest with his brothers, Cornelius and Don, in Longview.

John McIntyre said he's hoping Francis' remains might be placed atArlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C. Francis is eligiblefor a burial and ceremony there, he said, an uncommon honor thesedays. A bonus: John's son, Mathew, has just entered the U.S. NavalAcademy at Anapolis. He'd like his son to be there for theceremony.

Still, John said, he's willing to accept the majority vote in thefamily should the others choose to bury Francis in Longview. What'simportant, he said, is getting Francis home.

"My dad, until he passed away, remained optimistic thateventually Francis would be found," John said. "It's amystery that I have been aware of and I have followed for fivedecades. Fifty years."