Franklin (CV 13) - Naval Cruise Book

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Big Ben ' s Marine Detachment Aft, down on the third deck in the ship ' s liospital. Com- mander F. K. Smith ' s Medical Department had little trouble with the battle of organization — the Hospital Corps of the Navy is a self-integrated outfit and only the ' ' cream of the crop is assigned to ships. No one, at any time, heard much from this department, but somehow it was always there when the need was mighty. Lt. Comdr. L. H. Birthisel. Jr.. the fiery Texan whose gleaming high leather boots had spurned the snows of New- port as he S])urned any soil or subject alien to the Lone Star State, was Gun Boss. Tlie Fighting First Division the Terrible Tliird. all the Gunnery Divisions from One to Eight, came into being branded with the fire-breathing im- print of a master gunner and rustler-chaser. It was a job well done. The Jap pilots who flamed into the Pacific can bear witness to the fact. The Communication department, under Lt. Comdr. D. L Mather, was composed of the radiomen, K-One; the signal- men, K-two; the yeoman, mailman and printers, K-three. The radiomen — with sparks on their sleeves — were to flash out contact reports and receive the orders that helped to doom the last proud fleet of the Imperial Japanese Navy; the signalmen — wearing the crossed flags — would send many a battle signal whipping from the halliards in the gusty winds of the Pacific, and they would be the most alert gang in the Fleet if Chief Harry Reese had his way. Yeomen, man- ning vital talker circuits in battle, would spend their waking moments with every report and request Big Ben could de- Lt. Comdr. L. . Birthisel, Gunnery Officer until December 1944 Comdr. F. K. Smith, (MC) . Flight Surgeon and Senior Medical Officer until June, 1945

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sister carriers to l)last an enemy liase and tlieii lade lac k into the ocean mists from which she liad come. In that last, desperate moment, wheti the l() s are harkinf; and the 20 ' s commence to open in a wild staccato, and tlii ' captain shouts his commands, then the Kiifiineeriiif Depart- ment would he ahle to live up to its hoast and its creed: We answer all bells. The ; ■ heiiiy men lik Poi) Tur- ner, watertender first class, who looked too old for comhat duty, hut actually was 50 years young, and would have nothing hut the toughest for himself. He went forward, that fateful March 10th and won the Bronze Star. Men like Esslinger, Mintoni, Hummel, Brown, Darjany, and hosts of others gave their life ' s blood that a thing of steel .should answer all bells. R-One Division and R-Two Division of the Damage Con- trol Department, under Comdr. W. R. LeFavour, who had only recently been a submarine commander, soon acquired the air of haughty efficiency which was to characterize them. Custodians of the holds and voids, ever-vigilant watchers of the status boards in Central Damage Control ; welders of steel, hewers of wood, experts of improvise and ' Can Do ' , these boys were busy with a purposeful zeal from one end of the road to Kyushu to the other. In each of the eight Damage Control and Repair parties that stood by the length and depth of the ship when battle threatened, the key men — masters of fog nozzle, of Foamite ' ' . of shoring timber, of the last hatch and water-tight door — these were boys from Damage Control. Their deeds would become legend- ary. Chief Shipfitter Durrance would die beside his burn- ing rods as he strove to cut his way through a bulkhead to free Doctor Fox and the eighteen hoys tra[)|)ed in the sick- bay with him. The Navigation Department, under the beloved Com- mander Benny .Moore, with its expert quartermasters, and its departmental auxiliary, the ship ' s band, was worthy of its name from the first day. hile the quartermasters had their jobs to perform on the bridge, the band had their battle stations down in the powder handling rooms or on the stretcher details. In the evenings on the hangar deck before movies the band played their hearts out. with every man-jack who could muster within hearing distance as their cheering audience, . mong their most enthusiastic followers, in later days, were the crews of destroyers fueling along- side, who never tired of a flight deck serenade. Their fa- vorite request was Sidewalks of New York. The Marines came aboard as a detachment under Ca|)tain Herbert Elliot; they kept their own compartments as shin- ingly clean as their rilie racks; they manned their own group of 40 mm. mounts and stood their sentry and orderly watches with military precision. The spirit of this outfit from the first day aboard was typified by the grim sort of courage that forced Private Steve Novak Itack into the smoking wreckage of a compartment from which he had just escaped, to lead his shipmates to safety. Or Private . L. Kliemozwitz, with that handful of volunteers on Bis; Ben ' s last 40 mm. quad, blazing away desperately at a div- ing Jap bomber with such effect that the bomb missed the ship when another hit would have .sent her to the bottom. Tho.se were Big Ben ' s Marines — the 7lh Division of the Gunnery Department. Comdr. F. K. Agi ' iis, Chief Engineer until May 4th, 1944, came from the Hunker Hill to found the Black Gang Comdr. If . R. LeFaiour. Damage Control Officer until Feb. ' 2nd. 194:). .in ex-suhmtirinc skipper. Comdr. Benjamin Moore, , avigaior to Sept. 24th. lOt-l: Executive Officer until Dec. 20th, 1944

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A Hellcat ' s pliine captain, ivary oj the prop, stands by with a nheel chock vise. Mailman Kaymond T. Lorentz, with his five helpers, would he the most important men ahoard ship as letters he- gan to come and go. The printer ' s work was never quite finished and the deht due Chief Raymond D. Blair for his unselfish devotion to the ship ' s paper will never he re- paid — Chief Blair was killed in action. Under Comdr. Cone, the Supply Department had many activities. There were more than three thousand tons of groceries to fill Big Ben ' s larders to he ordered and stored ahoard! there was government insurance to sell; payrolls must he met — and were. The pencil-pushing storekeepers checked and accounted for every last item and penny. The Commissary Section hrought aboard the flour, sugar and other stores from freight cars on the dock. The Disbursing Section called S50,000 an average payday; hit a bumper record of S750,000 when Big Ben pulled into Bremerton, handling seven and a half million dollars in the first III months of service. The Aviation storekeepers ran their own department store. All of those sections roinjiosed the S-()ne Division. S-Tvvo Division was made up of steward s males, cooks, bakers, and laundry men. These .sound like lunndruin tasks, hut every man had a battle station — passing powder, keep- ing watch on the guns, on repair parties. A task is not humble or menial when a man is at his battle station for many hours through the night, then passes food or clean clothing to his shipmates all day — and still grins. To every plane on a carrier comes a lad to be its constant guardian and protector. This man is not an officer, but is called a captain — a plane captain. And while he does not have stripes of gold on his sleeves or golden wings on his chest, he loves his plane just as surely, he sacrifices himself just as uncomplainingly, as only a real Captain could. He boasts of her deeds, he sorrows in her hurts; he is the last to touch her before she roars down the deck, the gladdest to greet her when she lands aboard. His only duty is his plane. i ' o tear in her sleek fabric, no rip in her tires or broken cable to her radio must ever mar her performance. Lack of gas, lack of bullets, or faulty lubrication must never make her the prey of crafty Zeke or Jaj) AA, or the victim of a crash landing at sea. In his leisure hours he polishes her gleaming skin; he sleeps beneath her folded wings, or on the cushions of her cockpit. In the anxious hours, while gunners stand tense and the combat air patrol is busy just over the edge of the sea, many of the quiet little knot of men sweating it out by Combat Information Center are plane captains. The story of the Wx Department is the story of the plane ' s