Captain Wilfred L. Painter (CEC, USNR), was truly a legend in Seabee history. A movie could be made of his exploits. Much of his work in the Pacific had been confidential, almost nothing was written about him.
Author William Bradford Huie, in his book From "Omaha to Okinawa" wrote a few pages about him. I have condensed some of Huie's writing.
If Painter had lived in the 16th Century, he would have been Captain Blood, if in the 19th, he would have been a mixture of Jeb Stuart, Buffalo Bill, and Jesse James.
After Guadalcanal, Painter became one of the Navy's advance Scouts in the Pacific. It was his job to pick landing sites, and particularly to pick the sites for airfields to support our operations. On every island in the Solomons on which we landed, Painter was there before the landing - surveying, taking soundings, determining whether and how fast an airfield could be built there. He had sneaked ashore from Submarines and PT boats, hidden in caves, dodged Japs, ambushed Japs, made rendezvous with his subs and PT's, and returned with the information on which the decisions were made.
Painter is an engineer. To understand the importance of his work, you must understand the importance of his work, you must understand the importance of engineering to the war's naval operations. Every landing we made in the Pacific was made with one prinipal aim in view: to obtain an airfield. If the Japanese had an airfield on the island, was it on the best site? could the Jpanese field be lengthened and enlarged for our use? If not, where was such a site? What about prevailing wind direction and its relation to proposed runways? Was there a coral deposit nearby? If not, what would be used for building material on the runways? What about supplying the airfield? Was there deep water nearby in which piers could be built and Liberty ships docked?
Some of our line admirals were slow in realizing their dependence on those engineering considerations, but Painter, with his brusque but efficient manner, was there to advise them. Admiral Halsey, no shrinking violet himself, quickly recognized Painters value, and Painter became a captain at thirty-five the youngest four striper in the Navy.
On Pearl Harbor Day he was building a dry dock at Long Beach. He was rushed to Pearl Harbor and placed in charge of raising the battleships California and West Virginia. He worked like a fiend. He dived with divers, and was so covered with scum each night that he had to bathe in Kerosene. A doctor was assigned to follow him throughout the dark, muddy bowels of the big ships to revive him when he collapsed from sulphur dioxide gas. He had both ships raised and in dry dock before anybody believed it was possible.
The earliest Seabees had been rushed to Efate and Espiritu Santo, and they completed an emergency airstrip at Santo - our first jump off base - just ten days before D-Day at Guadalcanal. Painter was in this area as engineering officer on the staff of Vice Admiral McCain, commander of naval aircraft in the South Pacific. In effect, he became all around engineering handy man for Admirals McCain, Turner, and Halsey throughout the South Pacific campaign, In effect, many of the engineering decisions, were Painters, as evidenced by the fact that he was jumped from Lieutenent, to Lieutenent Commander, to Commander, and then to Captain in rapid order. He was thirty five when he put on his four stripes.
Rank meant nothing to Painter, however. Like most of the Seabee officers, he was essentially a civilian, and wanted only to get the job done and get out. He hates red tape, and his adventures in cutting it are Pacific legends. He would tell off an Admiral as quickly as he would a seaman second-class, and only his sheer ability as recognized by broad-guaged men like Admirals Moreell, Halsey, and Nimitz kept him from being canned.
Painter tore around the South Pacific on all sorts of missions. Two days after the Marines had taken Henderson Field, he landed there in Admiral McCain's flag plane and began surveying sites for fighter strips Nos. 1&2. The Japs came over, Painters plane had to run off and he was left on Guadalcanal. When the old destroyer Mcfarland was hit, Painter patched her up and saved her. When we were ready to move northward "up the slot" Painter was sent to New Georgia to pick the landing and airfield sites. He sneaked ashore there and found a British colonial official who was hiding from the Japs with a small party of natives.
The Britisher provided Painter with a canoe, a guide, and some bearers, and the party started on the water trip across Viro Harbor, which was held by the Japanese. A storm almost swamped the canoe before it could reach shore. Painter spent the night in a cave. Next day, as the wind became even stronger, he abandoned the canoe and set out to explore all the land around Viro Harbor by foot. With his native guides, he waded swamp for two days, traversed thirty miles, and concluded that a landing was not feasible at Viro. There was no site where an airfield could be built quickly. Painter left the Viro area, went to Segi Point, and found the spot he was looking for. Disguised as a native and in a captured Jap landing craft, Painter took soundings off Segi in full view of Jap land parties. Later Painter returned to Segi with a survey party and actually began work on the airstrip. The 47th Seabee Battalion landed there on June 30, 1943, D-Day in the Munda operation - and completed the airfield in ten days.
This was only the beginning of Painters scouting experiences. He dressed like Davey Crockett. He flew thousands of miles, traveled in PT's and subs. He was fired on by Japs and Americans alike. He was on Northern Luzon looking for airfield sites long before the Japanese realized that they had last the Philippines. He has been other places, too, but the full story will have to wait.