Bunker Hill (CV 17) - Naval Cruise Book

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215 ,. M -.sw 1 ' , HLL . wifi Uwffrtif Nm i 'A M i..y A wide range o f duties was theirs to perform From water-tight integriqy to disposal of traslz, the H ull Deparfment lzaa' to maintain constant vigil to assure the security of the ship. he Hull Department of a ship-form- e erly the Construction and Repair De- , partment-now comes under the cog- . nizance of the Bureau of Ships and, as in the specific case of the U. S. S. Bunker Hill, was responsible for a tremendous amount of the ship's ei-Hcient operation. Most any hour of the day or night you could hear the Word passed for the First Lieutenant or some one of his assistants to dial a given number, report to a given space, or to receive divisional reports of one kind or another. By having the name hull attached to it in the U.S.S. Bunker Hill this department would have quite a job if it had nothing more to do than to keep up with its namesake. The hull is actually one part only, and such un-thought-of workhorses as the Fresh Water King, repair parties, underway boatswain's mates of the Watch and Damage Control con- stituents also came under the Hull Depart- ment's watchful eye. The cleanliness of the ship, disposal of trash and garbage were J nl ' further problem children of the First Lieu- tenant's oHice. When general quarters has been soundgds until there is actually some damage to conud or some part of the ship to repair the PW' sonnel of the Hull Department-convuy the other departments--has a nice quiet P59 . . . if you can consider sitting

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and you feel an insatiable desire to fall lazily into another world---something like an ice show you saw at the Centre Theatre two years ago, or an afternoon at the Strato- sphere in the Spring . . . Everything is far away . . . The lirst word that they're actually on their way strikes you as being out-of-kilter- probably a mistake somewhere. You've never seen Zekes and Vals and Kates before, though on several occasions you've waited for them. Now you hear that they're coming . . . you're at first tensed up, and then rather glad . . . The Murder-Murder! sound of torpedo defense on the bugle breaks you com- pletely out of your lethargy . . . You rush head-long for your battle station . . . The air has turned hotter . . . and you see the men hurrying to put on their helmets, you hear the purring of power-dives, and you watch the five-inchers point their muzzles higher and higher into the air . . . There's nothing there-there couldn't be, you can't see a thing but the same blue sky and lazy clouds . . . The not-seeing is a terrible moment of activity for though you read of this and that in time of action, you can't seem to get it through your head that they'll be there, that you'll see airplanes diving for split minutes, then gone-or burning in the water, all that belongs to another world, not this thought . . . Now you hear that they're only fifteen miles away, doing 200 knots and flying at 18,000 feet-who knows this? who said so? it's still probably a mistake . . . Buzzing in your ears are words, hot words, words that don't make sense because they're giving out directions and ranges and bear- ings . . . You think everything is God- awfully confused-it's just your mind, you tell yourself . . . The telephone circuit stops its ceaseless buzzing for a moment . . . Then one phrase comes in clear, unbelievably clear . . . There they are-high, three o'clock to the sun! Dive bombers . . . And there they are, thirty-three of them standing out as tiny black specks against that same blue sky, their sleek backs glistening in the sun- light when they dip wings to force a closer formation. One huge V of V's. But they're not all alone, you hear a word that the fighters are tangling with another formation out on the beam, out of the corner of your eye you see three spirals of smoke trailing toward the water out on the horizon . . . but you're fascinated by these specks- they're growing and you can see them more clearly now . . . going for the sun . . . A thunderous noise from behind, and you jump as the five-inch shells start singing out over your head, black puffs appear in the midst of the tiny specks, but you don't know what happened up there . . . Now they're pointed toward you, diving before they reach the sun . . . first one, then another, the tail- chasing madmen have begun. . . . The hard- est thing for you to do is to get it through your head that they're trying to kill you, sink your ship, burn you alive . . . -It's hell and smoke and noise now, and your guns are roaring in staccato barks be- tween the deep-chested fivers and the rattling din of smaller stuff . . . VVaves of red tracers, interrupted by puffs of black bursts, rise in the face of the hell-bent attackers . . . A splash beside your gun mount-in the water so close you could have touched it, and you didn't see it . . . The Fools! Number two rolls over on his back smoking, and a puff of white unfolds in space-a parachute starts down--Still they're coming . . . Still your guns are roaring--perhaps even you are yell- ing at the diabolic machines that cut madly through space, heedless of the fire and brim- stone . . . just fools, damn' fools . . . The last one is pulling out high, streaking for cloud cover far astern . . . Everything gets incredibly quiet in almost as short a time as it took to get noisy . . . You're still strain- ing your eyes toward the sun, now somewhat dimmed by the umbrella of black smoke that has taken shape over the surface force . . . For the first time you notice that you're jerky and nervous, your strength has been spent and you'er exhausted . . .

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waiting for hits and near misses a quiet rest, As defined by the Chief of Naval Operations, Damage Control consists of fin partjz . . . the methods necessary to preserve watertight integrity, stability, and maneuverabilityg to control list and trim, to effect rapid repairs to materialg to provide adequate protection from fire and chemical agents, and to facilitate care of wounded personnel . . . Though it seems that these duties should be enough to keep the department busy, there are still more: the First Lieutenant is messing officer and is directly charged with the responsi- bility of feeding the men at battle stations during long periods at Condition One. SHIP'S TROUBLE-SHOOTERS The Hull Department seems to be the cen- tral nervous system for all ship's head- aches. Repairs do not always wait for con- venient times, so it isn't unusual for the carpenters, shipfitters and their aides to be up all hours of the night making good some damaged unit in order that the break of dawn may find the ship in one hundred percent fighting condition again. The senior officer of the Hull Department in the Bunker Hill was Lieutenant Com- mander S. H. King, officially known as the First Lieutenant and the Damage Control Officer-as well as the Chemical Warfare Officer. His assistants include the Assistant First Lieutenant, Materiel Officer, Fire Mar- shal, Ship's Bosun, Ship's Carpenter and other junior officers. Aboard ship the department was divided into three divisions QR-1, R-2, R-31, the first including the shipfitters, car- penters, painters, and personnel of the sail and bosun's lockers. The second included the ship's service personnel, and the third was made up of mess cooks and the masters-at- arms. Lieutenant Commander King, not unlike many other Naval ofhcers, grew up in an atmosphere far from the sea, he spent the first twelve years of his life in Omaha, Nebras- ka, before moving to Maryville, Missouri. Though he was barely sixteen when America got into the late World War, he enlisted in the Navy, the Armistice was signed before he went to sea, however. Later he entered the Naval Academy, where he distinguished him- self as an end on the football team and a member of the rowing crew. While still an ensign he resigned his commission and re- turned to civilian life, where he remained until December 1, 1941, when he returned to the Navy and was assigned as Naval R.O.T.C. instructor at the University of Pennsylvania. He reported to the Bunker Hill in March, 1943, as assistant to Commander C. A. Fer- riter, who was then First Lieutenant. Commander Ferriter, a veteran of sub- marines and commanding officer of a mine- sweeper assigned to the Asiatic Fleet during the early days of the war, was one of the first officers to come to the Bunker Hill. He will be remembered for his keen sense of humor and his all-round excellence as a leader. While in the Asiatic he was awarded the Navy Cross for his work in rescuing the destroyer l -an-1- Perry from a burning drydock the day the Japs first bombed Cavite Navy Yard. Assisting Commander King was Lieutenant R. S. Finkbine, who came to the Bunker Hill from Columbus, Ohio where he did a tour of duty in Naval Officer Procurement. A native of Des Moines, Iowa, Lieutenant Finkbine served in the first World War, as a seaman second at the outset and later as a com- missioned officer. Lieutenant Commander E. Rodee was as- sistant to the First Lieutenant prior to his S5 in