Bunker Hill (CV 17) - Naval Cruise Book

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the squadron inaugurated its training, con- tinued, after becoming Bombing Eight, at neighboring Fentress Field which was to be the base for the summer. On the side of experience were Skippers Shifiey and Dew, six battle-scarred veterans of the valiant Enterprise, Red Carmody, Les Ward, john Ritchie, Bruce McGraw, Benny Shefchik and jim Keefeg and the redoubtable Flying Mustache-A. D. jones-back from many a Mustang sortie against the bloody ferries. As for the rest, the majority was composed of ensigns fresh from fiight training but none the less convinced they knew all the answers. It was a herculean task that confronted Skipper Shifiey, and he inaugur- ated an intensive training program with the emphasis on bombing and gunnery. Right from the very beginning one man emerged from the crowd to become the driv- ing force of the squadron, big, energetic, en- thusiastic M. D. Big Red Carmody. A veteran of some of the Enterprise's most grueling battles, he had the word on carrier operations and an incomparable ability to drive his point home. He and Les Ward toiled unceasingly in fiight, in lectures, and in bull sessions to mould an integrated squad- ron from the divers material at hand. They had to learn to fly alike, think alike, act alike and gradually with Red's ringing ad- monition, You've got to play it smart as a by-word, they began to round into shape. Early in December they were off to the war, or so they thought. However, due to an un- foreseen chain of circumstances, they laid over in Panama for a week and naturally embarked on another final whirl. After furthering Latin-American relations for several days they took departure again, but the ship hugged the west coast of the U. S. and docked at San Francisco, just in time for the holiday season! In 'Frisco the squadron threatened to dis- integrate entirely, Lieutenant Cjgj jack O'Neil recalled. The human constitution, it became apparent, could stand only just so many farewell parties. We managed to hold out through the New Year, though, and on January 6, 1944, we took sad leave of the U. S., headed West. After some nine months of training we were off to the war. But still another disillusionment was in store for us. Before we even came in sight of the fabulous Diamond Head the squadron was launched and we moved to Maui, the jewel of the Hawaiians. Bitter as was the initial disappointment, this was the luckiest move yet. It made two things possible. First, the polishing of a squadron grown stale from lack of fiying time during the farewell tours of the previous two months, and most important, it gave us our chance to move aboard the U.S.S. Bunker Hill, the finest carrier in the fieetf' At Maui the bombers dug into intensive training operations free- from the distractions of such worldly billets in San Franciscoand Norfolk. Meanwhile they sent emissaries to the Bunker Hill in the person of Arthur jones, Don Johnston, Perry Huntsman and Wilbur Bigger Ballance, who operated with Bombing Seventeen during the Marshalls and Marianas operations of February. They came 'back with glowing reports and the squadron climbed aboard on March 14, 1944. The rest was easy. After a couple Of group gropes, Ctraining exercises to the un- initiatedj they set out for the first encounter with the japs. On March 30 Skipper Shifley led the first of the strikes against Palau, the strategic Jap naval base in the Western Pacific. F ortwo days Bombing Eight pounded shipping and installations with wave after wave of Helldivers. When the smoke had cleared away conservative estimates gdVC them five ships sunk and many others badlY damaged. It was an auspicious beginning: and transformed the squadron into battle- tested combat pilots, baptized under fire. Heartened by its initial success, Bombing Eight began compiling one of the finest records made in the Pacific, marched their bombS across Hollandia, jinked through the Dubl011' Eton slot at Truk, and paraded on to the Philippines.

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Swings by Wilmot Houdini, the calypso king- Buck Buxton perused the works of James Farrell. Mel LeCompte and Ole Johnson listened while Art Teitelbaum dreamed up gastronomic delights. Shortly before 4 p.m. on June 20, the word that Torpedo Eight had been both hoping for and dreading was flashed over the tele- type: Jap Fleet Sighted! The first wave was on deck: the Skipper, Carter, Folkedahl, LeCompte, Gagnon, Bux- ton, Phillips and Mason. Minutes later, backed by' the greatest fiight deck crew in the fleet, they soared off the bow on the most important mission of their careers. . It was another night of destiny for Torpedo Eight. With the bombers and fighters of the Bunker Hill, they reached the enemy fieet first and made what Commander Ralph Shifiey, Air Group Commander, described as a perfect attack. Intelligence later credited them with a min- imum of three torpedo hits on a carrier, battleship and heavy cruiser. But they had gone far beyond the normal range of a TBF. The inevitable began to happen. They heard the Skipper say: Well, boys, this is where I get out and walk. Don't follow me down. His wing lights disappeared in the dark- ness. q They fought back through that black night with prayers on their lips. Meathead found his own force and made his historical call: Hello Rebel-this is Meat! Informed by the ship that the flight deck was fouled up briefly, he took to the air again: Rebel-this is Meat.-Goodbye, now! And he moved over to a CVL where he made 2 perfect landing with but ten gallons of gas in his tanks. Carter defied every written and unwritten stick landing on another CVL after his tanks had run dry. The Skipper and his crew parachuted and Were picked up by destroyers. LeCompte landed safely. Gagnon, Buxton and Mason wound up the long journey in the water and spent varying hours in their life rafts until they were pulled up to the decks of hard- working tin-cans. At the final count, Folkedahl was missing. Hope for him and his crew never has been abandoned. Torpedo Eight had met the test-and passed. You can't measure accurately the damage done to an airfield nor can you be sure whether the thunderclap kissing a bomb ex- plosion is an ammunition dump or oil. Tor- pedo Eight's bombs thundered from Palau to Formosa, ravaged Jap installations that had been planned and designed to stem American might. BOMBING EIGHT Cn the bright Spring morning of June 1, 1943, an eager group of young Naval Officers huddled together over coffee and doughnuts at East Field, Norfolk, Va., and opened an impressive manila envelope bearing the imprint of the Navy Department. En- closed was an ofhcial order authorizing the commissioning of Bombing Squadron Twenty- eight. As senior ofiicer present and act- ing squadron commander, Ensign Robert L. Spanky Spohn arose to assume the weight of his new office. Let there be a Bombing Twenty-Eight, said Spohn. His words prob- ably will not go down in history. Spank's reign of terror was short-lived. The very next day Lieutenant Commander Ralph L. Shifiey, USN, arrived and took over his rightful command, and the squadron repaired to an outlying base called Creeds Field sit- uated in a geographic division of Virginia l termed The Dismal Swamp. There, aPtY , rule of carrier aviation when he made a dead- outfitted with thirty-six brand new SBD s, 209

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After the Truk attack Lieutenant Com- mander Shifiey received a double promotion, advancing to the rank of Commander and assuming command of the Air Group, leaving with the unswerving gratitude and loyalty of every member of the squadron. He was succeeded by Lieutenant Com- mander James D. Arbes, USN, who fitted in the picture as smoothly as though he'd been with the outfit all along, and immedi- ately took over in every respect and proved to be a superlative commanding ofiicer, and to win similar admiration and respect. On the 16th of June the most exciting news of the war leaked out, the build-up for the Bombers' greatest strike. The Jap Heet re- portedly had sortied and was enroute to intercept our force. Immediately began a series of searches hunting down the little yellow men. Late in the afternoon of the 20th the Jap fleet was contacted and a deck load was launched from the Bunker Hill, including twelve bombers. It was a dramatic situation. Skipper Arbes and each of his men knew the hazards confronting them, the range, the impending darkness, the calibre of the op- position, but they flew off confidently. And K -'z z' V., -f. 1 ft '- QW? f 'W-wr . N, iv- ' f ,fs .-Q1--,, 2.213.341-f.. .K I wg PX, 15f:.2vi ' ,f H' f ggwi'-212. af ' -, v. . ,:,1,fs1 -, ' A -. .2-T71.'f -t' 'ifhrfz s. Q, '- X 5 3511 -.ggi-5 if, , fz. , N . 4 f . sw X? 'MQW' s XM.. if ' ! 2 ' -- .!- 11 5,5 3 I-aj-ia-.',1 HQ E , S, gal Pia' -3 -. , Q3 X i xi f4.x.,,gsi35., f. .- A 'X , , ev 144, nf,i'!55i:.5ff 5.15 -,. ,.,, 3 7 Ab, ,- -f Jgf 52X2Lff'L:.'f'1'1 fx ff . cw' , f ' .. 1-vs 33- M .' i 1 ' 4- ' Q- 3 -' if.- 'f.-'i f U .f X I ' . lg uf 1I5J?Q1'3ff'7ali7,'f 'N ff' ' if ,,f, if . a ' f ff 6, 'fa--'fr 'K-T':.s y -rw .J .' f . V , v,f,,C,'fg,yi . ' 5-1Ej i.fg-if:gg,,E5.' 5, - I A r jt3J1jrfiLfri:3,1ff wwjgi' .. - If ,- ,, ' .gf s . . 1. , , ff-21111. ' ' sy-f. - ,fglf--,,. f 1 7 4 -- -, ,f rw -an f -.aria-,,. ' 1 i Q' - ' ' .j ' ' If 4.-if I N' '+A' fxlffif' fp: I 5 W -N E 4 W' 'J ' ' - ' n-M-Q 'ti -- ' 4 f' 1 4 f 3 .. i Q.,'.., sf, 1 :1 if .rv-W'g ',,.2,, i-- , ,..i-,..- . 'TVHFQF' f 2 ' f2il i'i '-Q 7 ' , ,J . V ' -gafffl. A it - NX ,V . NM.. , .,, , .ryk it was a black night aboard. With almost no word as to results, they had the discour- aging tally of not a single bomber returning to the Bunker Hill at the end of the attack. On the 21st the scene cleared a little. Ken Holmes, the only man to land aboard a car- rier, returned early. Then all day aviators and gunners were returned via the vigilant destroyers that had rescued them from their fleet of rubber boats. The count mounted. The Skipper returned, then Jones and Pilcher, Scheff, Horn, Sharp, Mooty, all with their rear-seat men, and fin- ally Perry Huntsman and his gunner, Houston, who had spent more than fifty hours in a life raft under the broiling tropic sun. Photo- graphic evidence showed incredibly good re- sults. Out of twelve bombs, VB 8 scored nine hits, six on a carrier which was probably sunk, two on a battleship and a very dam- aging blow to a cruiser. As in every victory, it exacted a heavy toll however, as six men failed to return: Lieu- tenants Cjgj C. D. Smith, Robert E. Sterling and James C. McIntyre, and their gunners K. E. Barttelbaugh, ARM1c, Harry Ashton, ARMIC, and Robert N. Varrette, ARMQC. It was one of the most successful dive bomb- ing attacks in history and the squadron takes pardonable pride in the men who participated. As a kind of anti-climax the bombers flew a strike against Pagan Island in the Marianas group on June 24, returned to the Marianas to support the Guam invasion and for three days rained bombs on the key point of the island-Orote Peninsula with its air craft and military facilities. It was not a glamorous assignment, aimed at gun positions principally, but it was a workmanlike job of destruction. On July 26 they returned to Palau for a two-day operation, moved on to the scene of their first endeavors and attacked another two-day strike on the Bonin Islands, only six hundred miles short of Tokyo. By that time they thought they'd seen all the anti- aircraft the japs had in reserve but the Nip had an unwelcome surprise at Iwo and Chichi Jima. The sky was literally black with AA. Then a return to Palau to soften it up for the