Franklin (CV 13) - Naval Cruise Book

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mk Miraculously uninjured, i ' s pilot and gunner escaped . . . the plane sank in 45 seconds newer four-bladed ones. They carried more equipment than design had provided for. The carburetors required re- adjustment to meet tropical flying conditions. Pilot tech- nique was a factor; experienced pilots lost fewer planes. But what was the answer? There were serious talks in the ready rooms that evening: Boys, said Comdr. Howerton, for the last three days we have been putting on the aquatic act — let ' s give them an aerial show! Now this is the way . . . And into the night mechanics toiled feverishly. Next morning at flight quarters, a thousand eyes were on the first Helldiver that rolled up to the take-off spot. Mechs, grimy but confident, watched with tired eyes as the big plane went storming up the deck. Before it reached the forward elevator the wheels were in the air and she soared up so powerfully the mechanics could have wept for joy. The gunner in the rear seat, anxious a moment before, clasped his hands over his head in triumph as the Helldiver climbed away. Big Ben never lost another plane on a deck take-off. Sunshine Howerton had been named by sailors. Al ways a kind word or understanding smile as he passed the little guy ' sweating over his bench or straining under his load oi bombs. They swore by him, though no one ever thought he was soft. There was the time in Trinidad when he alone of all the fliers had some difficulty in finding his way back to the Franklin. When he finally returned aboard he delivered himself wrathfully of the remark: If you can ' t find the ship, boys, just head for the biggest rain cloud you can see. Big Ben will be right in the middle of it. ' ' Throughout the long months of combat flying in the oft- times rainy Pacific the pilots of Air Group Thirteen counted this as reliable advice. Only one fatal accident occurred during the cruise. Dur- ing the afternoon of March 31st, Charles Van Camp, 18- year-old ordnanceman, was fatally wounded when the 50- caliber machine guns of the Hellcat he was de-arming acci- dently discharged. He was buried at sea, the first of many who gave their lives at their posts on Big Ben. On the more placid side, it was at Trinidad that the first issues of Radio Press News, six pages a day ungarbled from the static by Radioman George Jarrett, made its ap- pearance. Edited by Dick Hand and Joe Haile, mimeo- graphed by Chuck Greshko, the 600 copies were distributed in the early hours of the morning watch — Big Bens own newspaper, bringing news from home and the world. It was prized by the men ; the captain had a private copy with his morning coffee. And the Franklin Forum, Big Ben ' s monthly paper, ar- rived through the efforts of Chaplain C. A. Chamberlain and Chief Printer Blair. There are no copies left in the ofEcial files but they are treasured all over the world today, in many scrapbooks. It was here, too, as much needed light relief, that the Franklin Frolics were born. Nick Kenny ' s songs; Honey- boy, who was none other than the fabulous Lt. Red Har- ris, in blackface. Honeyboy Harris was with Big Ben a long time, but fair weather or stormy, his skeptical thoughts reminded men that they, too, would ruther be home, Mistah Shoemaker. Tom ' Kelly ' s golden voice and the old Irish ballads he used to sing — they still ring down the hangar deck in the evenings. So shakedown ended. Taps came, clear and sweet, to seaman and to captain. The officer of the deck looked up at the Southern Cross. The quartermaster sounded eight bells and alls well. Big Ben bulked huge and grim against the dark-shrouded horizon.

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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

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(. H A V T E R FOUR ... tve saw the Arizona and Oklahoma, bedded down for good in that mud on Pearl Harbor s floor. But some xcay, when tve left them, those gallant hulks were farthest from our thoughts . . . we were heading west, farther west than we had ever dreamed; somewhere out there in front of us ivas a war ... WESTWARD Ii w s April 15th, 1944, when Big Ben dropped her 15- ton anchors in the roadstead off Annapolis, the first stop since Trinidad. There was shore leave that evening, little of uhich has — or ever will — creep into the pages of history. The next morning the Naval Academy ' s Board of Visitors inspected Big Ben. Midshipmen, admirals, congressmen, educators, were shown every department of the latest major warship to join the mightiest Navy in the world. Senator David 1. Walsh, of Massachusetts addressed the crew over the puhlic address system and told his own feeling of Frank- lin ' s im])ressiveness. He then assured the crew that the greatest of all the country ' s weapons was her youth — such as made up the crew of Big Ben. The pause was not for long. The next day Franklin moved into Hampton Roads, moored at the Norfolk Naval Base, and 15U0 of her sailors scattered on their first real Big Ben, icith a deckload ready, swings into the wind to launch