Belleau Wood (CVL 24) - Naval Cruise Book

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3 The bridge just sent word down that ive're only eighty miles off shore. fap planes make that run in about fifteen minutes. Doesnlt give the combat air patrol much time to intercept. Those low clouds up there are perfect Kamif kaze cloaks too. Over the phones from Gun Control on the bridge: 'CIC reports bogey at 3 olclock, 60 miles. Moments later, Bogey is now in to 40 miles, closing fastf' K'Set Condition One, stand by for attack! Is this fap going to suicide us, or will our guns get him first? It's a deadly game with the fap carrying the ball and God the referee. And don't think were not trembling. 'You'd have to be an idiot to be out here and not get scared. The bogies turned out to be some of our own planes coming back from the strike, thank God. Time for dinner. USend one quarter of the men to chowf' Down in the ship men have helmets and life belts handy. A few have flash cream on their faces. 'Stand by to land aircraft. Our planes are coming in. Looks like they're all back, but a couple are pretty well shot up. And brother, don't think we don't sweat those babies inl 'The pilots and crewmen are OK., thank God, but one plane has most of its rudder shot away. It's a miraculous and splendid job these pilots out here are doing-amazing the way they handle themselves and their planes. This evening they'll be painting some more Jap flags on the island structure. It's afternoon now, and the sun is boring down. We've been up here ten hours and that leaves six hours more on these rotten gun tubs. 'cCondition OnefEasyf' Hope I never hear those words again. 'You sit here with nothing to do but watcher-watch the sky and its clouds, the water and its flying fish, the planes and their markings. 'You get bored and tired, and mad and sick. All day long the ships steam back and forth, into the wind, out of the windf-leaving long wakes clear to the horizon. One's brain gets numb doing nothing but stare at the sea and the sky for 16 hours day after day. And when the action does come, it happens so quickly you are never quite ready for it. It's all over within a 95

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'Theres one heck of a racket and will be for the next twenty minutes or so as the growling engines, with flamf ing nostrils, pull the planes into position on the catapult. Squee0nk, Squeeonkn on the howler gives the catapult offlcer his gofaheadg and the first plane hurtles into the sky with a thunderous roar. Twentyftwo, twentyfthree, twentyffour. They're all off. And now, except for the aggravating whistling of the wind, a sudden quietness settles about the flight deck and the gun galleries. The planes are out there circling with the other car' riers' planes for a rendezvous. Already the ordnancernen are bringing up the born-bs for the next strike, and the flight deck crews are spotting the remaining planes. At sunrise: Secure from General Quartersl'-all except Gunnery Departrnent which remains at their guns in Condition OnefEasy all day long. It's daylight now, and we can see. Q

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matter of seconds and then you wait, wait, wait again for some more. Well, the sun has set. Night has enveloped us once more. At last, at long last, the -bugler sounds Secure from G. We can go hit the sack now-five or six hours, sleep before getting up again for another day exf actly like today. The succession of launchings and landings through the daylight hours keeps the airdales on the go. For each launch the planes must be parked on the rear of the flight deck to clear the forward space for takefoffs whether they be catapulted or deck run. Before each landing, the planes remaining on the flight deck are moved forward to clear the landing area. This continual shifting of planes is known as urespotting the deck and is a tiring job for plane pushers. Between flight operations there is little time for anything else. A common sight on strike day is that of weary airdales stretched out on the flight deck, grabbing catnaps at every opportunity. Down in snipe country, the enginefrooms where the light of day never penetrates, strike day is like any other day at sea--you have to keep the screws turning whether you're striking, fueling, or just plain cruising. But to most of us outside the fliers, strike days are question marks on the calendar. The planes take off and disappear into the sky. Later they come home to land. Where they go and what they do in the intervening hours-the real offensive work of the carrier-is known only to the fliers themselves and those who receive their reports. ltls a sensation peculiar to carrier life to be so near historyfmaking performances-W-and yet see nothf ing, hear little, and feel so far away from it all. For ex' ample, during the crucial Qkinawa campaign an engineer deep in the engine rooms of the ship remarked approf priately, 'iMight just as well be in the Gulf of Mexico for all I see of the war. That was true for almost every man. Except during those rare moments when the ship was actually under attack fand this was only a small 96 i I 4 I i l l i 4 l 1 l l 1 l i l i l l l 1 I 1 l