Veteran holds onto memories

At 89 years old, Sam Maas leads a peaceful life. A grandfather, he lives in a quiet neighborhood with his wife.

But not a day goes by without something serving as a reminder of the tragedy Maas endured in February 1945.

An assistant flight engineer in the U.S. Army Air Corps from 1942-1945, Maas was on furlough when Lt. Gen. Millard Harmon and his flight crew vanished over the Pacific Ocean some time on Feb. 25 or 26, about six months before the defeat of Japan in World War ll. After an 18-day search, the longest hunt during the war, the effort was called off.

Now, nearly 60 years later, Maas is the only living member of Harmon's regular flight crew.

While he may never know exactly what happened aboard Harmon's converted B-24, Maas believes the problem may have been the heater, a painful topic for the retired father of four.

While waiting at Hickam Field in Oahu, Hawaii for transportation home to Wisconsin for a month-long leave, Maas noticed a mechanic working on a heater to be installed in the B-24, Harmon's temporary plane. Another flight engineer was in Santa Monica, Calif., inspecting what was to be the general's new plane.

To this day Maas wishes he had informed someone about what he saw before leaving.

"He was working with a heater. He had it on the ground in parts," Maas recalled, sitting at his dining room table and surrounded by stacks of newspaper clippings and photographs of the general. "I told him, 'Why don't you get a new one?' But he said it (was) already fixed. After this happened I wish I'd have seen the pilot or Harmon himself. If I had told someone about what this guy was doing it might have made a big difference."

A technical sergeant with previous mechanical experience working on farm equipment, Maas flew with Harmon, known as "Miff," from 1942-1944 on board both a B-17 bomber and a B-24D. Maas said the plane's heaters could explode if not pieced together properly because they were fueled by 100-octane gasoline.

But Maas left for Milwaukee that day, and Harmon and his nine-man crew departed on the B-24 for an inspection flight through the South Pacific, heading for the islands of Guam, Tinian and Kwajalein.

On Feb. 25 the plane was returning to Hickam Field from Kwajalein. The crew planned to eventually travel to Washington, D.C. for a war conference, but the plane never made it to Hawaii.

"I believe that's probably what happened," Maas said. "The heater leaked, an instant explosion. It could have been something else, but I'm 90 percent sure it was the heater."

Maas was at a Milwaukee restaurant for a late-night hamburger with friends when he heard the news.

"The guys told me, 'Your general is missing,' " Maas recalled. "I thought they were kidding me."

He immediately called the local newspaper and a reporter confirmed the news.

"When I found out about it, it was terrible, terrible to hear," he said.

Maas said he was initially hopeful that Harmon and the crew would turn up. He said the war department, riding on the same hope, did not release the news for nearly a week after losing contact with the aircraft.

"On March 3 every newspaper in the country reported it," Maas said. "I like to believe maybe they can still find some debris, but it must have been a terrible explosion that disintegrated the plane. I doubt anything will be found, but I'm still hopeful."

Maas relies on that hope every day. For the last six decades he has worked to keep the memory of "the forgotten general" alive.

Without fail, he lights a candle on every anniversary of the plane's disappearance. For the past several decades he's also sent letters of Harmon's story to various government and military officials. The most recent correspondence was with Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., in 2003.

"I think about this all the time. Maybe too much," Maas said. "It'll be 60 years this February."

Maas respected Harmon's leadership style. Of his stacks of clippings relating to the plane's disappearance, a page with Harmon's autograph is the most priceless.

"He was a quiet man," Maas said. "Harmon did not seek credit for himself. Gen. Harmon, a lot of people don't know this, was the first commander of the B-29s."

Maas said Harmon was also the first person to come up with the idea of lowering planes to 200-400 feet for bombing instead of 15,000-20,000 feet, but he did not seek credit for the idea.

Maas also remembers the flight crew, many of whom were his friends.

"We lived together in a tent for two years," he said. "We were very close."

After leaving the service in June 1945, Maas moved on with his life.

He married and became a father and a grandfather. He worked as a baker for 20 years in Milwaukee before moving to California in the early 1970s. He worked as a real estate agent and as a golf course marshal for another 20 years.

He and his wife moved to Henderson about two years ago, after enjoying vacations in Southern Nevada.

Maas will never forget his general.

"Harmon was such a wonderful man to talk to," he said. "Of course, when we lost him it was such a terrible thing."


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