On April 12, 1945, high above the skies of Koriyama, Japan, a 23-year-old Master Sergeant named Henry E. “Red” Erwin faced a moment that would etch his name into the annals of American heroism. Aboard the B-29 Superfortress City of Los Angeles, Erwin’s routine mission turned into a life-or-death struggle that tested the limits of human endurance and selflessness. His story, one of unimaginable sacrifice and bravery, serves as a timeless reminder of what it means to put others before oneself. This is the story of a man who carried a burning bomb through a smoke-filled plane to save his crew, earning him the Medal of Honor in a moment of quiet, profound recognition.
A Routine Mission Turns Catastrophic
Henry Erwin, a young radio operator from Alabama, was part of the 52nd Bombardment Squadron, 29th Bombardment Group, 20th Air Force, stationed in the Pacific Theater during World War II. His role aboard the B-29 was critical but often unglamorous: he was responsible for dropping white phosphorus smoke bombs through a narrow chute to mark targets for other bombers in the formation. These bombs, designed to burn intensely and produce thick smoke, were essential for guiding precision strikes. But they were also incredibly dangerous, capable of igniting anything they touched.
On that fateful April morning, the City of Los Angeles was part of a bombing run targeting Japanese industrial facilities. As Erwin prepared to release a phosphorus bomb, disaster struck. The bomb malfunctioned, failing to deploy properly through the chute. Instead, it ricocheted back into the aircraft, striking Erwin directly in the face. The canister exploded, engulfing him in flames and releasing a cloud of toxic, blinding smoke that filled the fuselage. The blast seared his skin, burned away much of his clothing, and instantly blinded him. The plane, now filled with choking smoke, was at risk of crashing, endangering the lives of the entire 12-man crew.
A Race Against Time and Fire
Despite the agony of second- and third-degree burns and the total loss of his vision, Erwin’s instincts took over. The burning phosphorus canister, still active and white-hot at over 1,300°F, was a ticking time bomb. If left unchecked, it could ignite the aircraft’s fuel or structure, dooming the crew. With no time to hesitate, Erwin made a decision that would define his legacy: he picked up the searing canister, clutching it tightly to his chest to prevent it from rolling or causing further damage.
Blinded and in excruciating pain, Erwin began to crawl through the narrow, smoke-filled fuselage toward a small window near the cockpit—the only viable exit to jettison the deadly device. The journey, though only 13 feet, was a gauntlet of obstacles. The B-29’s interior was cramped, with equipment and structural components blocking the way. At one point, Erwin encountered a heavy metal navigator’s table obstructing his path. With one hand holding the burning bomb against his chest—its heat continuing to char his flesh—he used his other hand to lift the table out of the way. Each second was a test of endurance, as the phosphorus continued to burn through his skin and the smoke threatened to overwhelm the pilots’ ability to control the plane.
Erwin later described the ordeal, saying the short distance “seemed like miles when you are burning.” Yet, driven by a singular focus to save his crew, he pressed on. Reaching the window near the cockpit, he managed to hurl the canister out of the aircraft, preventing a catastrophic explosion. His mission complete, Erwin collapsed between the pilots’ seats, his body still smoldering from the chemical burns. The crew, now able to see through the clearing smoke, safely navigated the damaged B-29 to an emergency landing on Iwo Jima.
A Fight for Survival
Erwin’s injuries were catastrophic. Phosphorus burns are uniquely horrific, as the chemical reignites upon contact with oxygen, making treatment extraordinarily difficult. When surgeons on Guam began operating, they faced the grueling task of removing phosphorus particles embedded in Erwin’s skin and eyes—each fragment sparking anew as it was exposed to air. Doctors initially believed he would not survive the night, let alone recover. Yet, Erwin’s resilience shone through, just as it had in the skies. Over the course of months, he underwent more than 40 surgeries, enduring unimaginable pain as medical teams worked to save his life and restore what they could of his vision.
While Erwin lay in a hospital bed on Guam, his fellow officers, led by General Curtis LeMay, commander of the 20th Air Force, recognized the magnitude of his actions. The Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military award, is typically awarded after a lengthy review process, but LeMay and his staff knew time was critical. Believing Erwin might not survive his injuries, they expedited the recommendation, rushing it through the chain of command in record time.
A Quiet Tribute to Unfathomable Bravery
On April 19, 1945, just seven days after the incident, a bandaged and immobile Erwin received the Medal of Honor in a hospital on Guam. There was no grand ceremony, no fanfare—only a solemn moment of recognition. The medal itself was the only one available in the Pacific, pulled from a display case in Honolulu. Lt. Gen. Barney Giles gently placed it on Erwin’s chest, a silent tribute to a man whose courage had saved an entire crew in mere moments. The citation praised his “extraordinary heroism, superhuman effort, and magnificent courage,” noting that his actions were undertaken “at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.”
A Legacy of Resilience
Against all odds, Henry Erwin survived. After months of recovery, he regained partial eyesight and returned to civilian life in Alabama. He went on to work for the Veterans Administration, helping other wounded veterans, and lived a full life until his passing in 2002 at the age of 80. His story remains one of the most powerful examples of valor in World War II, particularly among enlisted airmen, who rarely received the Medal of Honor. Of the 473 Medals of Honor awarded during the war, only a handful went to members of the Army Air Forces, making Erwin’s recognition all the more significant.
Erwin’s 13-foot crawl through a burning plane is a testament to the human spirit’s capacity for sacrifice and determination. His actions saved 12 lives, but they also inspired countless others who heard his story. Today, his legacy endures in military history, in the archives of the Medal of Honor, and in the hearts of those who learn of his bravery.
A Hero for the Ages
Henry E. “Red” Erwin’s story is more than a tale of wartime heroism; it’s a reminder of the extraordinary lengths to which ordinary people can go when faced with impossible choices. In a moment of crisis, blinded and burning, he chose to act—not for glory, but for the lives of his comrades. His courage, humility, and resilience continue to inspire, proving that true heroism is measured not in distance traveled, but in the depth of one’s resolve.
If you’re interested in learning more about Erwin or other Medal of Honor recipients, resources like the Congressional Medal of Honor Society or the National World War II Museum offer detailed accounts of their stories. For now, let us remember Red Erwin—a man who carried fire to save others and emerged as a beacon of hope in the darkest of moments.
