Franklin (CV 13) - Naval Cruise Book

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CHAPTER THREE ... We had some great times, too. Scotland Beach . . . Port of Spain there were some real guys in that old division ... SHAKEDOWN With a farewell blast of her whistle to Cape Henry ' s fading shoreline Big Ben and her escorting destroyers, tlie W ' ainwrighl and the Rhind, stood south on March 20th. 1944, bound for Trinidad, in the British est Indies — and the shakedown cruise. As the weather warmed. Big Ben and her crew stretched tliemselves. Divisions came to morning quarters in whites, less blouses. Men took on a tan. The Bos ' n, Mr. Spiewak. became more conscious of unsightly blemishes on Big Ben s skin and the boatswain ' s mates, with their divisions, set about remedying winter ' s stain. The din of chipping ham- mers, wire brushers and scrapers echoed endlessly about the decks. The Gulf of Paria is a large, landlocked arm of the South Atlantic between the island of Trinidad and the main land of South America. It has two entrances, the northern called the Serpent ' s Mouth. the southern named Dragon ' s Mouth. It was into the channel of the Serpent ' s Moutli that the little group of warships steamed on March 24th, shad- owed by the mighty bulk of Big Ben. They anchored off the U. S. Naval Air Station. For nearly a month in the calm waters of this warm sea Franklin and her destroyers ca- reened through practice missions during the day, anchor- ing at night behind the safety of the port ' s submarine nets. Shakedown cruise ... It gives the captain of a new ship the opportunity to weave the men and the departments into one fighting unit, before taking her into battle. There was gunnery practice. At five miles, with five- inchers, at two miles with 40 mm. guns, at one mile with forty-six high-speed 20 nmi. machine guns — every conceiv- able target situation was practiced for use in the comliat that men knew was on the way when these quiet waters and planned maneuvers were left in Big Bens wake. And the Air Department filled the air. Here it was thai the men of Big Ben fastened their devotion on the planes which were their pride and joy. They strained their eyes and their hearts watching the fighters in the preparatory burst — and the bomb-toting Helldivers and the torpedo- lugging Avengers as they flashed down in screaming dives from every corner of the tropical sky. The attacks were simulated, but in deadly earnest, on the destroyer-towed targets. There were mock battles, using Big Ben ' s Hellcat fighters, under Lt. Comdr. W. M. Wild Bill Coleman, to intercept Lr. Comdr. R. L. Kibbe ' s Helldivers and Lr. Comdr. Carry French ' s Avengers. Desperate battles, radar and Grummans defending the Franklin, would thunder to a conclusion, far out at sea. When the last enemy had been splashed. Big Ben ' s defenses would relax and the attackers would come whipping in for the kill. Torpedo planes, skimming low over the blue water, would flick from side to side at a terrifying 300 knots to avoid imaginary AA and then roar over the Franklin ' s decks. Dive-bombers plunging from the skytop, grew by the split-second from insignificant specks into hurtling monsters that would fill a gunsight to the Plane- pushers fold an Airnger ' s wings, as the flight deck officer signals the pilot

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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.

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I l4 A Helldiver, a split second before it crashed rims, pullinj; out of their daring dives, it seemed, just be- fore they crashed on the deck. There was shore leave and every man had his day. The men had swimming from liie white beaches of Scotland Bay and they could play at baseball, volleyball, football. There were cocoanut trees, too, for the men who cared to climb. But cocoanut trees have rough bark, as Yogi McMulleii, piccolo-loving seaman, discovered when a frond snapped at the top of a tall one and he landed on every wrinkle going down. Air Group Thirteeris Commander — Conulr. ( ' . C Sunshine Hoiverton The restricted zones of Port of Spain led many a curious lad to venture forth in search of some justification for the Navy ' s taboos. Radiomen Frank Wickers and Johnny Bas- ham were among those who found themselves struggling in the web of jungle violence. When rescue came they were whisked away by Shore Patrol in the Navy ' s own Black Maria. Some, like Ron Noyes, were typical American tourists and brought home the full quota of carved horn ash trays and pillow souvenirs. Others, like ' ' Jinx ' Dizek, missed the spirit of things. Jinx brought back a heavy fever, which later developed into measles. The first few days of the shakedown, however, were dis- appointing. Plane after plane would take off, roar down the flight deck, then tumble into the water or spin away to one side and crash in the sea near the ship. Mechanics sweated into the night; civilian experts ate and slept with the problem — when they slept at all. No one had been in- jured yet; the water was warm and a crash-boat from the destroyers was always on hand. Yet it gave every man on Big Ben a bitter sinking feeling to see those huge, beautiful machines go thundering up the deck, so seemingly full ot power, then veer and crash into the ocean. They were not loaded; what would liappen when they had to carry a ton of bombs? After several days, when tlie fourteenth plane, and the third in a row, had staggered off the end of the flight deck to circle wildly then crash and sink in a welter of foam, the Air Officer roared on the speakers: Flight quarters cancelled! Conferences were held. Capt. Shoemaker, Comdr. Day. the Air Group Commander, C. C. Sunshine Howerton, the civilian technicians and mechanics struggled with the prob- lem. There was no one simple explanation. The planes were older models with three-bladed props instead of the