Bunker Hill (CV 17) - Naval Cruise Book

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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

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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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if li ,Q Q il ' 1 , 12, 1' li si fr 2. 5 ' ? 1: ,gl , 152 . 3 ,i X, I 1 ai ,E 1 ,. , f , 1 '.,: rf Il ld 'l gl S A ,i 'Q .1 lf: f .iz ry 'jf- rg ,L .xr 5 1 'a 'w .i if , ,, ll ,, N xg in ,li I-- lla T' 1 '1' l , , 1 F ri 31 l lm 1 1.1 .V if if .1 5, l . 1 . 4. 0 ai lv 'F li i 1. lf' ,. l 4 1 it li 1. l if . xi , 5 , V fl ll sl . 1 i ,N 1 1: '1 1 al , '11 l 5, l W I I 1 is Q , 2 I l l l 1 s , 1 1,32 'li' , eil! ' ' 1,112 find his shoes, and one sock seems to have gotten off by itself. Moreover, he is now convinced that the owl was moulting. Over- coming a paralyzing inertia, he manages to sit up in a crouch, banging his defenseless head on the bunk above. He is just about to attempt a landing on the deck when the occupant of the upper bunk hurtles down, stubbing a great toe upon landing. This oc- casions a nice display of four letter Anglo- Saxon words questioning the antecedents, legitimacy, perversions and general appear- ance of the person who maliciously left those shoes on deck. If morning is the lowest point, the hour or so of coolness just before dark is the highest. Everyone has showered, donned clean clothing, and climbed to the ,flight deck and exposed platforms, watching the sunset and cooling off. At this time of the day, the flight deck seems strangely removed from the Pacific, and an atmosphere of a street in a residential section of a town en- We Went Through x M - 1. 1 1 i ' ri- r, N '-1 Q. Q, 1 ,fs 4-t 'll 1' 4:-, ' 'wf,'Ja,1..dl,iE1i'fQYf.3.-51.-i.:.-.tf,mf.,u.,if,,lQ'2p.fjg..f'L:.-.cfL.ff,E..gQ,.v.,L.,, A Summary of the Bunker Hill's Role in The Pacific Conquest of 1944 hen the Bunker Hill entered the Pacific in September, 1943, the complexion of the war was vastly different from its appear- ance some fourteen months later. While our forces were on the offensive in the South and Southwest Pacific, it was many months before the enemy strongholds on the New Britain and New Ireland were reduced to a state of impotency as we were to find out in a very convincing fashion. In the central Pacific the Navy's activities had been confined to carrier strikes against the Marshall and Gilberts, Wake, and Mar- cus. In this great central expanse of the velops the usually grim and active flight deck, It is the sort of atmosphere that exists after supper, when people sit out on front porches and visit. Small groups gather and wander up and down the flight deck, getting a little exercise. They discuss the coming operation, or the last one, or the chances of going back, all of the current batch of rumors, interspersed with an occasional fact. The war seems years away and has no significance. The sun drops, touching the huge clouds with vivid oranges and reds, against a background of delicate blues and greens. Somehow, the sunsets seem to make up for a lot of things. Gradually the blues and greens merge, darken, and the stars begin to gleam. The groups gradually break up and drift below, to bed, to a few card games, to read a bit, to get off a letter. A few souls stretch out, soaking up wind, and stare straight up into nothing, wondering if the sky back home looks like this. Pacific we had not captured one inch of territory since the outbreak of the war, and from this area the Japs were continuously scouting and dispatching submarines to dis- rupt our supply lines to New Hebrides, New Caledonia, Australia and New Guinea. The strategic islands of the Marshall and Gilbert chain were a thorn in the side of our route to the South Pacific, causing our ships t0 travel several thousand additional miles. Some of the bases that we used in our early days in the Pacific were right up 011 the firing line. Funafuti, where we were to anchor shortly before the invasion of the Marshalls, was still very much of an ad- vanced base. In fact as late as November 1, 1943, the Japs were still bombing it from the Gilberts and Nauru. Espiritu Santo and .15 f 246 g ,,.' -