By Dennis McCarthy
RESEDA, Calif. — Abe Daniels moved recently into Apartment 445 at the Jewish Home for the Aging in Reseda, right next door to Joe Weinbaum in No. 447.
Dean Musgrove/Daily News photographer
Joe Weinbaum, 91, left, sits with his friend Abe Daniels, 94, who holds a model of a bomber similar to the one Daniels flew in World War II. Daniels is a Caribou native.
“I was a ship’s cook second class in the service, as low as you get, and here comes this hero moving in next door,” Joe says, introducing me to Abe.
“I’ve been helping him out. The guy learned to fly a dive bomber, but he can’t figure out a walker.”
Abe laughs. Funny guy, this new next-door neighbor.
Joe had invited me to stop by and meet Abe on Monday. The meeting almost didn’t happen, though, because Abe hasn’t done anything on Feb. 7 for as long as he can remember.
“I don’t even eat on Feb. 7,” Abe says. But he made an exception for his new friend because he likes the guy, and well, because maybe – at 94 – it’s time to bury some ghosts.
The Distinguished Flying Cross and Gold Star citations awarded to Tech. Sgt. Abraham M. Daniels, USMC, tell the whole story, but I’ll summarize:
On Feb. 7, 1943, about 200 miles from his base at Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands, Abe made a 90-degree descent in his bomber, diving from 10,000 feet, to less than 100 feet above the surface before pulling out. On the way down, he dropped one 500-pound and two 100-pound bombs that hit and sunk a Japanese destroyer.
Fifteen bomber pilots from the First Marine Aircraft Wing went after 20 destroyers that day, and Abe was the only pilot to sink one.
“As we were diving, it looked like heavy snow falling all around me, but it was gray snow,” Abe remembers. “We took some heavy, heavy anti-aircraft fire.”
He can still feel the heat from the flames that shot up from the destroyer and almost engulfed his plane – still see and hear the carnage below as the bombs hit.
“I put full maximum throttle and got the hell out of there.”
The Jewish guy from Caribou, Maine – who’d enlisted in the Marines and became the only combat pilot in his squadron who wasn’t an officer – was treated like a hero when he got back to base.
But it came with a price. Every Feb. 7, he closes the blinds, locks the door, and spends the day in isolation.
“I did what I did for my country,” Abe says, trying to explain. “But I was never so scared in my life. The day just brings back all those memories.”
Abe became a combat instructor at El Toro Marine Corps Air Station near Irvine when he returned stateside. One of his more famous students was baseball legend Ted Williams, who flew in both World War II and Korea.
Abe’s wife, Ada, passed away six years ago. He’d been living in North Hollywood until a few weeks ago, when he moved in next door to Joe, 91. They’ve hit it off.
“When’s chow?” Abe asks his hew friend. Joe gives him a big smile. At 94, the hero living next door is finally ready to eat on Feb. 7
Editor’s note: Dennis McCarthy is a regular columnist for the Daily News of San Fernando Valley, California. His story and Dean Musgrove’s photo are used with permission.
