Bunker Hill (CV 17) - Naval Cruise Book

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l main awake. At night, the fact that the human constitution needs eight hours sleep kept raising its ugly head, but night rations and hot coffee helped fend off the insistent arms of Morpheus. Phone talkers soon found that there were other talkers on the line and lively conver- sations ensued, keeping everyone on the line awake. They talked, they sang to one an- other and to no one in particular, and they profaned the pure night air with stories, laid in Boston. They insulted one another, they screamed incessantly for night rations, for hot Joe, for time checks and for their reliefs. The Qookouts specialized in subtle insults and good natured griping. The throttlemen were more sociable, but then, they had light to work with. They read books aloud, quoted poetry and semi-clean jokes for the benefit of the other throttlemen. They too, sang, altho the less said of this matter the better. For some time, the impression was created that Number Two Throttle was host successively to a medicine show, some trained seals, and Information Please. When' any of the foregoing diversions proved dull, there always remained the classic dispute involving the relative merits of the Hellcat and the Corsair. Friendships were broken, ugly words flew, new alliances were created, in the heat of discussion. None of the impassioned disputants knew a damn thing about aircraft, but the battle of the air in the Pacific was won and lost twice every mid-watch., . During these lonely, dark vigils, the radio gang sweated and pounded' away at their mills in the radio shack, which is not a shack at all but a hollow, in a mass of radio equipment. To stay awake, they made gal- lons of coffee fit only for the digestive tract of a bronze gargoyle, laughing bitterly when spoons dissolved in the poisonous black brew. Meanwhile, the Officer of the Deck scanned hell out of things with his glasses and ex- changed gentlemanly lies with the Junior Officer of the Deck, who in turn scanned other things. Finally the blessed relief arrived, 315111 groggy from the soggy heat below.. The mid-watch eased wearily below, tired, hungry, banging and stumbling slightly into their bunks for an hour or two before GQ. ' No fiend of the Inquisition ever devised a, torture more exquisite than that experienced by a man hearing with painful unbelief, the Hrst cheery notes of reveille. Holy Mack- eral-it can't be, it was only ten minutes ago . . . Somehow he does, or doesn't manage to stay awake, and when GQ is secured, stumbles below once more, faced with a problem that has no adequate solution. If he goes to sleep, he misses breakfast and he is possessed of a hunger that no mere words can describe. If he eats breakfast, he will be unable to get back to sleep with all that food inside. So it went, with variations onthe theme, the theme being four on and eight off, with a few extra-curricular activities thrown in to relieve the sheer monotony. One fine morning the lush smell of vegeta- tion was wafted out to us and some time later we anchored and were welcomed to the Channel Society . It boasted a recre- ation island, with cold beer. At one time the going rate of exchange was three ice creams for one beer, though I have no doubt that this ratio could be bettered. The place was a success as a South Sea Island and the lads collected everything from coral forma- tions and cocoanuts to a baby octupus. We all ate ice cream, drank beer, swam in the salt water, and played baseball, returning aboard in a hot, sticky sunburned mass. On a nearby island dwelt crafty CBS, Wh0 made many odd dollars by fashioning native grass skirts and selling them to the natives, who in turn sold them at somewhat increased prices to the crafty sailors, who packed them to take home and exhibit, telling the most outright lies about how they got the skirts. Then, son, there is the story of the wierd and unusual manner in which I spent the Armistice Day, 1943. No parades or speeches, no having a 'day off.' We were on our WW

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seven days out of Norfolk , the ship was rigged for canal passage, and the crew was decked out for a brief liberty. Scrambling down the brow and toward the gate, liberty-bound sailors found rows of taxis Cvintage, 1922- '27j waiting passengers. Every cabbie got a full load that night as they took the boys into the city, where was staged a ding-dong, jumbo- size liberty, compressed into a few hours. The next morning the Canal passage was started and throughout the day, navigation experts cropped up minute by minute, The big blue-gray carrier bumped, slid and sweated her way from Cristobal to Balboa with several inches to spare, thanks to the unerring eye of the canal pilot who had a special bridge built out over the flight deck from which he did some of his trickier conning. After a one night stop at Balboa we headed out into the Paciic, a three-ring aerial and Naval circus descending on us as we pulled out. Army lighters made sizzling passes at the ship from all bearings and angles, PT boats raced madly about, churning the water and laying smoke screens. No one was qui-te clear as X M ff fx? ff lei 3 .f N5 Q e, 45' ri? X9 AQ: . 'L' XX' V -.if 'r' , S 'Q J. 5? a '.,f-I 1 V N 1 I' fu Q., 4 H! ,.l1,!, kv!.. m y if f A in I 1 'T ' X im? Q , 5 f ' 1 X 65 4 . f if 'ii' K t' J f a f ' I X K' i W 1' V X to whatirn hell was going on, but the effect Was startling and impressive. Most of the planes managed to Hy under the deckedge elevator at least once, convincing uS that the pilots had at one time or other been Man- hattan cab drivers. After we had Wearled Of craning our necks and gaping, the, Plfmes formed up and Hew off in a more dlgmfled manner. The PTs executed a few fancY turns, blew off a little smoke and raced by, the crews waving us good luck. 'We had one more States-side stop, San Dlego, where there was a last chance to get 2. good drink of cow's milk, make a few phone calls and do a little shopping before the honeymoon ended. Our first taste of war Caine immediately in the persons of the CBS, W o turned the carrier into a transport, Camping cheerfully on the hangar deck, so we all settled down to a showerless voyage and got jolly well stinking together-lbut literally. One pleasant morning, Oahu loomed over the horizon, a mess cook dashed below, and in five minutes everyone's whites were ready! The thin bright line of the beach became more distinct and soon we were pointing out Diamond Head as though we had seen it before. Leaving the swept channel, we slid slowly into Pearl Harbor, picked up the pilot and solemnly gazed at scarred Hickam Field, found our berth, got lines fore and aft and the bull-horn dismissed the tugs. The gang- ways were rigged and began disgorging the CBS. Away they went, their hands no doubt itching for bull-dozers. Everyone longed to dash madly ashore, sprint out to Waikiki Beach, ride in on a twenty-live foot breaker and spend the after- noon drinking rum and cokes under a palm tree, observing the pretty ways of the natives. It was later that we learned the bitter truth. One day a carrier force slid in and we gazed at the veterans of a RAID! Now no one could keep up with the scuttlebutt. We did finally leave the enchanted isle, our stay productive of an accumulation of various articles made of native print cloth depict- ing the lives of the natives who Hacpliarently did little but dance the hula and d e away the day riding outrigger canoes. Someone carpingly pointed out that much of the stuff was made in Hollywood, but he was un- doubtedly an isolationist. We left, feeling not too badly about the Whole thing. Underway, the watches settled down to routine periods during which one must re-

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to discourage some Japs at Rabool, or Ra- bowel, take her cherce. We sent in our gtrike and got back the biggest damn air attagk probably ever seen in those parts. TWO hours of sheer hell, but we shot Japs down like clay pigeons. Fighters got some too . . . Biggest damn . . . Yeah, there were a couple of other carriers I guess, but the at- tack, two hours of sheer hell . . . At Rabaul, someone neglected to read the script. More than one plane dove at a time and this is strictly against all rules. It was impossible to see everything at once. They order these things better in Hollywood, where the planes dive in a nice orderly sequence, which permits greater ease in observing, and makes the shooting simpler. One of the rare sights of this war that will always stay with me is that of the crew as it presented itself for GQ that day at Rabaul. All hands were equipped to abandon several ships simultaneously. Each man bristled with knives, Hashlights, coils of line, Water canteens, packages of chocolate, life belts, tin hats, sun glasses, gas masks, and of course, the invaluable rubber packets in which we waterproofed our watches, wallets, playing cards and other necessities of life. We all settled down as comfortably as pos- sible amidst all the necessary equipment, expecting at least three days of GQ. I think that some of the boys were a bit disappointed when the bogies all retired and we secured. After' Rabaul we did more or less settle down to a routine. The Betty attacks even became a matter of routine, if a bit exacting. V After a while we got used to the slightly terrifying chattering roar of a plane during the short instant prior to its run down the deck, got used to apprehensively watching the bomb-heavy planes take off and lose al- titude until they left a sort of wake on the surface of the water from their wash. You also got used to, but always wondered at, the way the Hight deck crews handled the heavy planes in 30 knots of wind, with huge Props spinning murderously all about them- 1... ,..- , You Watched them crouch down and grab deck cleats to avoid being blown away as the Hrst planes took off. You marvelled at the timing, at the teamwork, and wondered how so much could go on over such a large deck, involving so many people with so few acci- dents. i Not as colorful or exciting as the flight deck is the small, completely artilicial city beneath the hangar deck, where the common denominator of all activities is the soggy, penetrating heat. Nowhere so much as below decks is one impressed by the fact that this is a war of machines. Wandering about, in- vestigating the innumerable hatches and trunks, one realizes how completely depend- ent the carrier was for all of the necessary power, propulsion, refrigeration, fresh water, air, etc., upon the technical skill and atten- tion of a large section of the crew that has to work, eat and sleep in the constant heat below decks. Even tho he has stood no watches the previous night, the coming of morning below decks is a time to try a man's soul. He awakes to find his pillow and mattress sod- den, his head foggy, his mouth tasting as though an owl had spent the evening therein. Here then, we have man at a low ebb. The sudden white light hurts his eyes, he can't