Monkey business in Clonakilty
On April 7, 1943, in the midst of the Emergency, a plane was spotted circling over the Clonakilty area. All eyes were trained on the sky but just one person was in the immediate vicinity when the Boeing B-17 eventually touched down with a bump midway between the town and Inchydoney.
Those on board the US Air Force plane Taint-a-Bird had no idea what to expect once they landed, having been blown off course by a storm en route to England from Morocco. As far as the 10 crew, one passenger (and one monkey) were aware, they might be landing in occupied France, or in Belgium, and one theory held by navigator Cpt SB Hayes was that they might be off the coast of Norway. All that captain, 1st Lt Willie Thomas, knew for sure was that the plane had run out of fuel.
On landing Sgt Guy Tice alighted from the plane and spotted the local man, one Eddie Collins. “Do you speak English?” the American asked. As if to prolong the drama, Eddie simply gave a nod. “Where are we?” asked Sgt Tice, more urgently. To which Eddie replied with the immortal words: “You’re in White’s Field — but if you want to take off again now I won’t say anything.”
Or words to that effect. 70 years on it’s difficult to be sure about some of the details in such a fantastical story — one that includes tales of exotic servicemen, a three-day blow-out in O’Donovan’s Hotel, and the sad/happy passing of a spider monkey named Tojo.
Tomorrow in Clonakilty the tale of the forced landing of Taint-a-Bird and the days that followed will be marked with a commemoration event in Clonakilty and White’s Marsh. It will be the most significant marking of the event since a plaque was unveiled on O’Donovan’s Hotel back in 1988, when Eddie Collins himself pulled the ribbon.
He has now passed on but the story of the 11 Americans and their picaresque stopover in West Cork continues to provide intrigue. According to Tom O’Donovan, who has been involved in running the hotel since 1979, the forced landing “was always a source of fascination”.
“The plane flew around for an hour beforehand and the whole town was on high alert that something was going to happen,” he said. “Within minutes of them being down, all these guys arrived out of the town.”
The intrigue began almost as soon as the plane’s drone was audible over Clonakilty, and continues to this day — so much so that one local resident, Tina Pisco, wrote a novel about the Americans and their West Cork escapade.
Tina has been living in the area for 20 years and first wrote the book, Only A Paper Moon, back in 1997, but is reprinting it due to the renewed interest in the story.
“These guys should have been taken to the Curragh and interned,” she says in her American twang, referring to official policy during the war for any foreign soldier finding themselves on Irish soil.
“The local defence force went out and ‘arrested them’, if you like, put them in O’Donovan’s and they had a hooley for three days.”
“They had nothing to do and all day to do it,” according to Tom, adding that since the hotel was acting as a garrison for local Irish soldiers, it made sense that the aircrew was brought there. In Britain American GI’s had been typecast as “overpaid, oversexed and over here”, but the people of Clonakilty had no such hang-ups.
According to both Tina and Tom, the square-jawed Yanks were a subject of adoration for local women and must-see curiosities for everyone else.
Tina said she was told that two men had cycled all the way from Glengarriff — roughly 65 km — to see the Americans.
Another novelty was Tojo the spider monkey, who thanks to the dark rims around his eyes was named after the bespectacled Japanese Prime Minister Hideki Tojo.
A lengthy article written by Bob Reid in the July 1989 edition of Aeroplane Monthly on the Clon landing suggests Tojo was picked up in Brazil when the Taint-a-Bird was circumnavigating the Atlantic. Reid’s also suggests that Tojo “succumbed to the West Cork weather” but Tom has another explanation — that a monkey used to more tropical climes may have developed pneumonia while at flying altitude.
Which ever, Tojo’s sad passing did little to diminish the sense of fun in Clonakilty that particular week in 1943. According to Tom: “Tojo passed away and the Americans had the idea to hold a ceremony for burying the monkey. In those days there were two archways [on Pearse St flanking the hotel] and they marched out one and in through the other. They took a platter from the hotel kitchen and some lace and laid him out on it. He was buried with full military honours.”
It should be mentioned that a number of sources suggest the Americans had 35 crates of rum on board when they landed.
Another peculiar detail about the incident, at least according to Reid’s account, is that William Joyce, aka Nazi mouthpiece Lord Haw Haw, apparently broadcast details of the forced landing on the very day Tojo was being laid to rest under what is today the Venue nightclub. Reid even claims that Joyce referred to Airman FL Thompson “walking out” with a local woman called Kay Coakley. According to Tina: “There a little bit of romance but not as much as in my novel. There was one lady who has now passed on in Clon and she corresponded with a co-pilot [Lt JB Stapleton] for the rest of her life.”
“When they were here they were attended on by every female in the area,” Tom says. “They were wined and dined.”
After three days the Americans — including mysterious passenger Sgt Marcel St Louis, apparently en route to a secret mission — were brought first to Collins Barracks in Cork and then up through the country before eventually walking across the border in civilian clothes and into the North.
As for the Taint-a-Bird, it remained in White’s Marsh until May 2 when an outside crew appeared and with the aid of steel mesh created a runway that allowed them to fly away. Reunited with its crew it flew 25 missions over Europe before being dismantled following its third tour of duty.
Meanwhile, all 11 of those who had been aboard the Taint-a-Bird during its Cork sojourn survived the war.
All have since passed away bar Guy Tice, who is too ill at present to travel to this weekend’s event from his home state of Ohio.
His memories of his first trip to Clonakilty are drenched in drink, Tina says. “When I met him he was 72 and he told me he never had another drop of whiskey again afterwards.”
Tomorrow’s celebration begins at 1pm in White’s Marsh, and local sculptor Moss Gaynor is working on a statue of Tojo that will be placed near his resting place at the rear of the hotel.
Next year it’s hoped that a new plaque will be unveiled but maybe the final words should go to the last man to do likewise, back in 1988.
When asked about his first contact with Guy, Eddie Collins said: “He gave me a pack of fags and a warm clap on my back.”
