Franklin (CV 13) - Naval Cruise Book

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Big Ben puts to sea the first time. February 2Ist, 1944 of these were now with the planes at the Naval Air Station. Oceana, Virginia — nearly every man a volunteer from some shore station. There will be more about them . . . much more. Tension was mounting, activity was increasing throughout the vast and impatient bulk of Big Ben when, on February 21st, all these preparations began to be translated, for the first time, into real meaning — for it was on that day that she was eased gently into Hampton Roads and Chesapeake Bay. De- serted by the last of the puffing tugs and left to rely on the power of her own giant engines. Big Ben was on her own. It was not time to steam straight for the Pacific. Much was yet to be done; trial runs, gunnery practice, special tests, and the gruelling carrier landing qualifications which must be undergone for Ah Group Thirteen. The first flight quarters sounded February 27th, a mo- ment more historic and significant than any man on Big Ben realized that day on Chesapeake Bay. This time, all hands watched with awe as the divisions of the Air Department went about their then-mysterious business and Comdr. Joe Taylor brought his Avenger to rest on the deck, catching the second wire with its tailhook. Tliis was Big Ben ' s first landing! Warplanes would roll down that flight deck and land again more than nine thousand times during her com- bat service.

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-T ' i -r« n . jU ht deck is a f ( «i « ' roi ,s place The next day Air Group Thirteen began to land aboard, from their training base at Oceana Aaval Air Station. For two weeks Big Ben prowled through the narrow con fines of Chesapeake Bay while the pilots sought to qualify in both day landings and night landings. The tlight deck crews, the plane-pushers, the entire Air Department, gath - ered experience, skill, and that subtle quality, for which war experience coined the awkward but expressive word : ■ know-how. Flight quarters, naturally ceased to be a novelty, but the men never tired of watching the planes come sweeping in. nor of the acrobatics of the Flight Deck Officers, signaling above the roar of motors. The busy teams of men in bright-hued jerseys and hel- mets — red for fire-fighters, green for ordnance people, yel- low for flight deck crews — were engaged in dangerous work. The slijistream behind a 300-knot fighter warming up for a take-off equals a tornado in concentrated strength and can blow an unwary sailor over the side in the twinkling of an eye. The propeller blades are a constant deadly threat to the men who work about the planes. The seeming safety of the gallery beside the flight deck disappears quicker than a man can think when a five-ton plane misses a wire and bounces in that direction at more than fifty miles an hour Then theres the hazard of fire. An axiom on a carrier is never smoke when you can see an airplane. ' The words: Smoking lamp is out above the third deck became a fa- miliar chant, reminding all hands that planes were being gassed or having their fuel removed until their next flight. On March 15th, Big Ben took a breather; came into the Naval Operating Base at Norfolk and rested her tired new beams and bulwarks beside Pier Seven. Just a breather, because she came here to take on her full complement of supplies and to fill her tanks with high-octane and fuel oil for the shakedown cruise. Pilots of the squadrons came aboard to live and among the ships Junior Olhcers was a mighty wailing and a donning of sackcloth and asiies as they left the rooms in which they had been quartered to take their rightful places in the large Junior OHicer Bunkrooms. Aft. in the crew s quarters, many a woeful seaman moved his belongings to some less desirable berth that the Air Group men might have their j)laces. Loud were the cries, but Ll. D. G. Billington, the Berthing Officer, was unimj)ressed. and soon Big Ben had taken Air Group Thirteen to her bosom. It was here in Norfolk, on a Saturday afternoon, thct eoman First Class Joe Norwood married his best girl, Nadine, of Miami. Florida. Lt. Comdr. Kelly. Air Oper- ations Oflicer. was best man. Streck. Hand. Fisher. Kai. Pederson. Johnson, Blown — all his fellow yeomen — weie there to wish him well and assist in the celebration. Little Joe Norwood, good yeoman, and most of those buddies, are sleeping now in the lijue Pacific. But Big Ben has not for- gotten.