Robert R. Tuttle

Each Memorial Day morning in Cranford, the names of our town’s fallen heroes are read. It is the mission of the Cranford 86 Project to ensure that there will always be faces and stories associated with these men, so that they will never become “just names”. Now in our eighth year of this mission, we were inspired by the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, and all of this year’s honorees were flight crew members. Here we present the life, service and loss of World War II bombardier, 2nd Lieutenant Robert R. Tuttle. 

Young Americans arrived into this turbulent war era as survivors of the Great Depression. Living through lean financial upbringings, their innovativeness flourished, as they learned to do more with less. From coast to coast, in towns and cities large and small, each community educated and nurtured the development of these young citizens, who were finding their place in the American landscape of the time. The events of December 7th, 1941, changed the plans of a generation, who suddenly found that the place they wanted to be was in the U.S. Armed Forces. These brave individuals who stepped forward were just kids, but they became bound together into the mightiest of military forces. They saved the world from an axis of evil whose ideology wanted to change the course of the world’s freedoms. Through the circumstances of their lives and how they handled them, this era of American people has earned the title of our “Greatest Generation”.

Our Cranford 86 profiles are created after collecting personal facts about each serviceman and interweaving them with the historical events and achievements in which he played a part. So many of our stories describe the inception of game-changing engineering marvels, an element which we feel is enlightening to both our team members as well as our readers. Lt. Tuttle was a bombardier on one of those marvels, the B-29 Superfortress. 

You’re gonna need a bigger plane

Of the military aircraft of the 1930’s, there were several heavy bombers that served the needs of the Allied armies of the free world to a high degree. Carrying considerably large payloads, these planes had the ability to approach targets from long distances and high altitudes. In 1939, the U.S. realized that if Europe and Asia were lost to the Axis powers, bomber runs across the Atlantic would be required. But, none of the most advanced bombers of the day had the capability to complete such a mission. A quote credited in part to the Greek philosopher Plato, “Necessity is the mother of invention,” has driven the creation of tools of war since the beginning of time. To satisfy the evolving needs of the Allied forces, engineers were summoned from the titans of the world’s manufacturing industries and a contest of sorts took place. As a reward, an enormous, lucrative contract would be granted to the winner. A “dream list” of requirements was put forth, specifying the following: a bomb load of 20,000 pounds, a speed capability of 400 mph, a range of 5,000 miles without refueling, and high-altitude capability with pressurized cabins for the entire crew. In 1940, four aircraft manufacturers submitted plans. It was Boeing, the manufacturer of the B-17 Flying Fortress and Consolidated Aircraft, maker of the B-24 Liberator that were selected as the finalists. In May of 1941, Boeing received the first order, with Consolidated Aircraft standing ready if the Boeing submission did not successfully perform in pre-war testing. Boeing’s B-17 had already been serving in Europe for several years. Given the B-17’s overwhelming offensive and defensive abilities, it had been dubbed the “Flying Fortress”. When Boeing’s new creation was unveiled, it was aptly named the B-29 “Superfortress” and was ready to rule the skies over the Pacific.

Cranford kid chooses to serve his country

Robert Ross Tuttle was born on July 10th, 1923 in Oak Park, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. His parents were Ross, a World War I veteran, and Corabelle. Ross’ job transfer to Western Electric in Kearny, N.J. brought the family to Cranford, a few months before Robert’s second birthday. Shortly after that, Robert’s sister Barbara was born. The two siblings, born two years apart, surely crossed paths countless times in the hallways of the public schools in town which they attended. At Cranford High School, Robert was a member of the track and cross country teams as well as the band. Graduating with the class of 1941, he was classmates with four of those who would also lose their lives in WWII—Jack Prescott, Roderick Smith, Nick Vassallo and Norman Sorger. After graduation Robert was accepted to Virginia Polytech Institute, commonly known as Virginia Tech, but transferred to Rutgers for his sophomore year. In a fashion similar to his Cranford classmate Jack Prescott, Robert, possibly lured by the recent change in pilot age and education requirements, set his sights on the Army Air Force. After passing the very demanding entrance exam, he left Rutgers in February of 1943, the middle of his sophomore year, to begin his preliminary training as an air cadet at Gettysburg College in Pennsylvania.

Our research for the Prescott Cranford 86 profile, gave us insight into the selection and training process of Army Air Force cadets. Robert received his pre-flight training in Santa Ana, California, where those who excelled and managed to make it through the rigorous testing program were sorted into pilots, co-pilots, navigators, bombardiers or flight engineers. These cadets would head toward specialized training in hopes of continued success and to graduate as officers. Those not measuring up would “wash out” and would be assigned to less demanding positions. The classification board in Santa Ana felt that Robert Tuttle would perform best in the most critical role of a bombing mission—the bombardier. Robert headed to Kingman, Arizona for gunnery school and then to Victorville Army Airfield in Victorville, California. Victorville graduated about 100 bombardiers each month. Cadets trained for eighteen weeks in the expert use of the Norden bombsight and E6B analog computer. It was at Victorville, at the July ’44 graduation, that Robert Tuttle received his wings and was commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant. He and his fellow cadets, who had made it to this point, had survived all odds to finally achieve the goal for which they had all so ardently sought. The event was memorialized with a yearbook similar to those of large high schools or universities.

As customary, a leave was awarded to WWII servicemen after completion of their training, before entering battlefield service. Our research found that in August of 1944, 2nd Lt. Tuttle was able to show off his silver wings and custom fitted uniform at home in Cranford, just three short years after his high school graduation. During this time, Robert got his orders to join the 870th Bombardment Squadron, 497th Bombardment Group (VH), XXI Bomber Command. Looking back at this complex period in WWII history, it is likely that our hero had no idea of the role his new unit would play in the strategies that would soon unfold, but with historical research and 20/20 hindsight we can see what was ahead for our son of Cranford in the coming months.

Changing the game in the Pacific

 In the Pacific Theater, U.S. Navy battle fleets would cruise past occupied islands, only engaging Japanese forces if the islands were deemed valuable for air strips and strategic supply depots. This strategy was known as “island-hopping”. Japan had bragged that they were protected by the Pacific Ocean, and the superior strength of their Navy left them with no fear of an attack on their homeland. For many reasons, including one that may not have been completely evident at the time, the U.S. had the northern Mariana Islands of Tinian, Saipan and Guam in their sights. The Marianas were situated roughly 1,200 miles away from Japan, too far away to be reached by any aircraft currently in service. In an amphibious attack on Saipan on June 15, 1944, U.S. forces were met by the mighty Japanese Navy and a ferocious battle began. The Japanese were underestimated by American intelligence, and they had surprised our marines and army when they added a garrison of 32,000 soldiers, who would rather die, than lose or surrender. After violent fighting for over a month, Saipan was taken and 31,000 Japanese had died in the battle, many by suicide. The U.S. Navy Seabees Naval Construction Battalions rapidly transformed the airstrips on Saipan so that they were able to accommodate a much larger aircraft, one that weighed 135,000 pounds and measured 99 feet long. An ambitious plan, several years in the making, was coming to fruition. 2nd Lieutenant Robert Tuttle and his crewmates would play a vital part in its success. As Saipan was being transformed into an American airbase, Robert began his introductory training on the yet-to-be-seen technologically-advanced aircraft that he would soon be flying. It was at Kearney Air Base in Nebraska, where he would first set eyes on the shiny, sleek, chrome-like B-29 Superfortress, just off its classified production lines. 2nd Lieutenant Robert Tuttle and his crews flew their “Superforts” from Kearney to Saipan, where they arrived on November 25th, 1944.

The Boeing B-29 Superfortress

Never before was there a bomber of this size and technological advancement. The Superfortress had pressurized cabins, allowing the entire crew to travel within the aircraft without oxygen masks, enjoying a controlled cabin atmosphere at altitudes as high as 31,850 feet. Earlier bombers exposed crews to 30-40 degrees below zero when up so high. On a B-29, no one touched an on-board weapon. The eight .50 caliber machine guns that shot half inch incendiary cartridges, and a rear mounted cannon with exploding .20 caliber shells, were remotely operated from a General Electric-made parallax computer-based “fire station” inside the cabin. Unlike its predecessors, the B-29 rarely required protection from fighter planes, it could defend itself against attacking enemy aircraft. The accuracy percentage of its computer-assisted gunsights was 90% at 900 yards as opposed to the 450-yard range of an attacking Japanese fighter plane. With over a 400-yard engagement advantage over the Japanese plane, the Superfortress rarely lost an in-air battle. The biggest breakthrough was the round-trip range of 3,250 miles. This would allow an attack from the east coast of North America to Berlin as dictated by the B-29’s design specifications. The evolution of WWII now required this capability on a different battlefield. The ability for long-range bombing of mainland Japan from the northern Mariana Islands was now a critical part of the path to Allied victory. It was something for which Robert Tuttle had trained extensively and was about to experience.

Arrival in Saipan

A letter from Robert arrived at the Tuttle home at 220 Central Avenue on December 11, 1944, telling of his arrival on Saipan. In it, he described the island and said he had not been on a mission yet, but expected to make his first one shortly. From an online oral history interview of a member of Tuttle’s unit, we learned a lot about life on Saipan and the Army Air Force structure of B-29 crews. There were 20 Superfortresses based at Saipan in November of 1944 and 30 crews of 11 airmen, equally split between officers and enlisted men. Additional arriving crew members would become part of the “pool”. They would fill in for crew members who were ill, wounded or killed in battle. Our assumption was that Robert had arrived after the crews were established and hence was assigned to the “pool”. The enlisted men lived in Quonset huts with 24 airmen per building, which replaced the tents that initially housed the airmen. We heard no mention of officers’ quarters, but from past research we would expect them to be vastly different.

Our hero gets his chance

In December, 1944, Robert accepted an offer for a volunteer position filling in for an ill bombardier on the Superfortress named “Special Delivery”. The mission was to be a “weather strike”. For a typical daytime B-29 bomb run, which involved multiple bombers, obtaining weather information was a necessary precursor to the success of the mission. In 1944, there was no radar-based weather prediction and sending out a group of eight or 12 Superfortresses, without weather information, would risk the lives of nearly 100 crew members. Instead, a single “Superfort” would be sent out at night, with a weather observer on board, to collect weather data from the target areas for the next day’s full-scale bombing mission. Weather strikes usually included a small-scale bombing mission. This was the case in Robert’s first mission.

On this 2,500-mile 14 to 15-hour round trip mission, the objective was to neutralize a Mitsubishi aircraft factory in Nagoya, Japan, with Robert of course as a key player. When it is time to write this part of one of our stories, we have become quite familiar with the life of our Cranford hero and feel a personal connection. We almost always take a minute to reflect upon what was being asked of this young man. Robert was a 21-year-old Cranford kid. As a bombardier, he would be perched within the iconic glass nose of his B-29, a state-of-the-art aircraft worth one million dollars in 1944 and approximately $17 million today. After correctly configuring the parameters for altitude, air speed, air temperature and wind direction into his Norden bombsight, 2nd Lt. Robert Tuttle would take control of the aircraft from the pilot and co-pilot. During this crucial time as they approached their drop zone, for those several moments, he would be the pilot. With a crew of ten other airmen watching, Robert would guide the B-29 to the correct location over the target. 

That day, strong headwinds were blowing over Honshu, Japan’s largest island. This caused the B-29, which usually cruised at 220 miles per hour, to drop down to a ground speed of 50 miles per hour, using massive amounts of fuel. When “Special Delivery” reached the drop zone, our hometown hero successfully delivered the massive payload of explosive and incendiary bombs with pinpoint accuracy, destroying the Mitsubishi aircraft production facility. This was probably one of the finest moments of his life.

Ditching of “Special Delivery” 

A description of what happened next was obtained from the accident report, obituaries, letters and other newspaper articles. After the success of the mission, the crew began their run home in high spirits. It was reported that at some point they began to smell an electrical fire on the Superfortress. The pilot stated that control of their guns and the interphone went out and the compass and other equipment failed. When the bombs had been dropped, unusually large fireballs were observed, as if an electrical plant or an arsenal had been ignited. This raid may have been conducted at a low altitude, as was sometimes customary during this timeframe in the Pacific, and the unexpected explosions may have caused damage to the plane. With the navigational abilities of the craft damaged, fuel running dangerously low and reports of one or more engine failures, all of our sources were unified in stating that the plane needed to make an intentional “ditch”. They were able to contact the Saipan base, reporting their location and the details of the emergency. With thick fog, “like milk” the water could not be seen as the pilot attempted to set the Superfortress down into turbulent seas amidst 25-35 foot waves. At 5:45 a.m. on December 19, 1944, “Special Delivery” hit the water, breaking off its nose and tail. The rough landing caused everyone but the pilot and the radio man to go unconscious. The two helped the other crew members out of the plane. They all had survived the ditching. Lt. Tuttle, at the time of the crash, was still in his bombardier’s position in the nose of the plane. When he regained consciousness, despite a back injury, Robert still took an active role in the rescue work. One life raft had floated away and one was punctured and only able to accommodate two men. All of the crew, except Robert, were crowded in or around one fully-inflated raft. After the loaded raft was almost swamped by waves, the tail gunner, Frank Romero, made a brave attempt to swim 40 yards to the empty raft, but disappeared under the waves. Lt. Tuttle clung to the partially submerged wing in the semi-inflated life raft, perhaps feeling that attempting to join the only other available raft would further overcrowd it. A huge wave crashed over the group, causing Robert to lose his grip and be swept under the plane’s wing. Tragically, he did not resurface. The ten remaining men tried to regain their composure and held desperately to the raft. Banged-up, seasick, with no rations and only a little water, they hoped that their radio notification would bring help soon. 

The rescue

 Back on Saipan, word of the circumstances of Superfortress “Special Delivery” had reached the unit commander, Lt. Col. Robert “Pappy” Haynes. He sprang into action, supplementing the Navy’s air-sea rescue service, and began his own search and rescue mission for the downed crew. Haynes requisitioned three B-29 bombers and, based on three conflicting eyewitness reports, he plotted his search grid. The mission began and Pappy Haynes chose the middle course for his own Superfortress. They methodically searched the area, and based on years of experience, a hunch and incredible luck, Haynes’ “Superfort” spotted the floating yellow life rafts, just 30 minutes after taking off. A news article described the jubilance of the remaining crew as they waved wildly from the raft and Pappy Haynes dipped his wing as confirmation that they had been spotted. This was at 11:00 a.m., approximately 130 miles northeast of Saipan, just five hours and 20 minutes after the ditching. Haynes’ B-29 then circled for three hours until a PBY Catalina flying boat arrived on the scene and performed first aid on the crew. At 7:00 p.m. a Navy destroyer pulled them from the raft and provided them with medical care. 

Tragic news hits home

At the end of 1944, on the day after Christmas, a telegram arrived at the home of the Tuttle family. It contained the devastating news that 2nd Lt. Robert Tuttle had been listed as missing in action after his B-29 Superfortress was forced to ditch on December 19th, 1944. The family received letters from Lt. Ewing, the Pilot /Commander of the B-29 crew and they also received some comforting words from Lt. Ewing’s mother. An agonizing six months went by before Robert was declared killed in action, and then the family had to endure a different kind of pain. Robert’s sister Barbara, age 19, had lost her only sibling. During this sad and scary time, Barbara was engaged to William Schnorr, a paratrooper in the 11th Airborne, who participated in the daring Raid on Los Baños in the Philippines in 1945. The couple were married shortly after the end of WWII. Since Robert was lost at sea, there was no burial, and we weren’t able to find any information regarding a memorial service. His name can be found on a panel within the Courts of the Missing at the Honolulu Memorial in Hawaii. Robert was the 45th son of Cranford to be lost in WWII, followed only by one more, his high school classmate Nick Vassallo, who died after the war’s end. 

The end of the war

By war’s end, 3,970 B-29 Superfortresses were built in U.S. factories, at a cost of 3 billion dollars in 1945 (approximately $51 billion in 2022). This was a billion dollars, 1945 money, more than the cost of development and delivery of the atomic bomb. At that time, it was the most expensive war project in U.S. history. Two modified B-29s, known as Silverplate Superfortresses contributed to the accelerated end of WWII. A bomber that could handle the incredible weight of an atomic bomb, 9,700 pounds, and one fast enough to deliver its lethal load and exit the area quickly were all crucial capabilities of these B-29’s. On August 6, 1945, a B-29 Silverplate Superfortress named the “Enola Gay” dropped the first uranium atomic bomb named “Little Boy” squarely on its target. This was accomplished by bombardier Tom Ferebee, using a Norden bombsight. The attack originated from Tinian, in the Marianas, with the Japanese city of Hiroshima as its target, a 2,900-mile mission.

Remembering 2nd Lieutenant Robert R. Tuttle

After he volunteered to serve our country, circumstances of war only gave Robert Tuttle one real-time chance to exhibit his capabilities and the type of airman that he had become in his young life. He channeled his two years of intense training into that moment and the expertise which he displayed as a B-29 bombardier was flawless. We like to imagine that he was able to experience a feeling of pride at the time and we join with him in that. Eyewitness accounts say that in the minutes before his life was lost he was without fear, brave and selfless in regards to the safety of his fellow crew members. Lt. Robert Tuttle’s contribution to our lives and our freedom was significant and it deserves to be remembered, not only by family and friends, but by our town, our country and the world.

Cranford 86 was very pleased to be able to connect with members of the Tuttle family, which include Robert’s nephews Doug and Curt Schnorr, Doug’s son Will and daughter-in-law Rachel. The Schnorrs provided us with some beautiful photos, notes and letters, as well as some family anecdotes, which helped us greatly with our research. They gladly accepted sponsorship of Robert’s banner and have plans to attend Cranford’s 2025 Memorial Day parade and ceremony. 

For more information on the B-29’s place in the WWII history of the Pacific, please view the Tuttle story, on the Cranford 86 website, at cranford86.org. Here we have provided links to some of the many videos which helped us to document this serviceman’s life. 

This story is dedicated to the memory of our friend Lieutenant Arthur Snyder, 1929-2025, Korean War B-26 pilot and Cranford 86 advisor.